


Dancing in the Dark

by Dangerousnotbroken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Awkward Flirting, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Phone Sex, Rimming, Sickfic, Smut, Socially Awkward Castiel, Topping from the Bottom, accountant!Cas, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 70,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technically, Pamela had introduced them.  It was a bit of a twisting of the facts to look at it that way, but it was how Cas always told the story.  Explaining what had actually happened usually led to a list of questions he preferred not to answer, that list growing longer depending on who was doing the asking, and it was just easier to say that Pam had been the catalyst.  Generally, he left it at that.  Dean, on the other hand, thought the real story was much more interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to post this once it was finished, but I decided that posting chapters as they're done is a great way to motivate myself to finish it. There will be fluff, and smut, and angst, and more smut, and then probably even more smut. Tags will be updated as more chapters are posted.
> 
> There isn't a real schedule on which I'm publishing chapters but I am updating as regularly as I can manage.

            Technically, Pamela had introduced them. It was a bit of a twisting of the facts to look at it that way, but it was how Cas always told the story. Explaining what had actually happened usually led to a list of questions he preferred not to answer, that list growing longer depending on who was doing the asking, and it was just easier to say that Pam had been the catalyst. Generally, he left it at that. Dean, on the other hand, thought the real story was much more interesting.

 

 

            Castiel made it very clear, whenever the subject arose, that he didn’t like nightclubs. It’s not that he was opposed to drinking. Quite the contrary. He enjoyed a drink (or ten) on occasion, had an appreciation for craft beer, and was more well-versed than he would care to admit in the art of surviving a killer hangover. Booze wasn’t the problem. People were the problem. Nightclubs, in his mind, attracted the shittiest kind of people. Pick any club, any night of the week, and you could check off every line on the list of people he fucking hated being around. Sometimes, when his older brother would drag him out to whatever club he was loving at the time, Castiel would play a game of “Spot the Stereotype” bingo in his head. He always won. Underage girl flirting with the bouncer to make up for the lack of verisimilitude her fake ID carried. Check. Frat boy, walking around in a mushroom cloud of Axe body spray, objectifying everything with tits. Check. College girls, at least three in a group, doing a line of tequila shots, then harmonizing a “Wooo!!” before stumbling back to the dance floor on platform shoes. Check. A couple practically fucking on said dance floor. Check.

 

Mentally, he filled his card, just like any other time Gabriel dragged him out to one of these places, promising himself he’d stay just long enough to clear the list and then take off. It was easy enough to lose Gabe in a crowd, once he’d had a few, but Cas usually ended up staying. He almost always ended up pouring his brother in to a cab at the end of the night, half carrying him into their shared apartment, shoving him in to bed with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the nightstand. He was a good brother like that. Cas drained the last of his drink and ordered another, tipping the bartender, before stepping away from the crowded bar in search of an empty seat. Gabe would find him eventually. Until then, all he had to do was drink a little less than he knew his brother would be drinking, and pass the time. His eyes found an empty seat, a booth off to the side, and he wove his way through the sweaty, obnoxious throngs of drunken idiots, eager to reach the seat before someone else snagged it. He breached the crowd and sank into the worn vinyl bench at the exact same time a perky redhead sat on the opposite side. Damnit.

“Oh, sorry,” she bellowed over the music. Castiel more read her lips than heard her words. The bassline was too heavy, the treble too shrill, to pick out much of the sound streaming from her lips. “I didn’t realize this seat was taken.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel answered. “I don’t need the whole thing.” She didn’t immediately fit in to any of the categories on his bingo card, on his list, so he didn’t see the harm in letting her stay. She didn’t eye him hungrily, like many of the over-sexed women in these clubs tended to do, so this wasn’t a come on. He always felt so guilty when he had to turn women down, like he’d led them on or something. _Sorry, so sorry miss, but you see, you lack the compatible hardware._ Her eyes weren’t glassed over, so this likely wouldn’t end with her vomiting on his shoes. He didn’t see the harm in it, and besides, how exactly was he going to justify kicking her out of a nightclub booth unless he needed the seat for someone else? He scanned the crowd absently, looking for his brother, though he knew the night was still far too young for Gabe to be drunk enough to be tricked in to leaving.

“Charlie,” the girl stuck her hand out across the sticky table, and Cas shook it weakly. Handshakes were so…archaic. She grinned widely, then retrieved her hand and picked up her beer. It was the same kind Castiel was drinking, he noticed.

“Castiel,” he replied, somewhat absently, scanning the crowd.

“You looking for someone?” She bellowed. Castiel nodded.

“My brother. He dragged me out here.” He wasn’t sure why they were bothering with conversation. It was strained, over the volume of the music, and he couldn’t imagine they’d have much to talk about. Castiel picked at the label on his beer. He’d rather be drinking at home, if he was going to spend his night drinking. Somewhere comfortable, familiar, and with a significantly more exclusive guest list. In his apartment, he didn’t have to deal with the crush of bodies, or with the obnoxious techno remixes, or the sticky floors or the…

Castiel’s internal griping trailed off as his searching eyes fell on a face through the crowd, a stunning face, and that face was staring back at him. Eyes met, across the room, through the dark, and he saw tiny smile quirk the corner of the man’s mouth when he noticed Castiel looking back. He let himself stare for just a heartbeat too long, appreciating the way the strobe lights cast shadows on the man’s strong jaw, the mischievous way his lips wore the half smile. Castiel didn’t go in for one night stands with strangers he met in night clubs, but it occurred to him that if this guy were to pick his way through the crowd, cross the room, and approach Castiel, he would be sorely tempted to break his own rule.

His staring contest was broken when Charlie saw fit to wave a hand in front of his face, waggling her slender fingers mere inches from his eyes.

“What’s got you so interested?” Her voice broke through the thrum of the bass just enough for Castiel to understand her. Castiel looked back to where he’d been staring, but the man was gone.

“Nothing, just…I saw someone.” He finished his beer and set the bottle back on the table. Just another pretty face in the crowd, that’s all. Nothing to get all teenage angst about.

“Do a shot with me.” Charlie commanded. Castiel looked at her blankly. “Oh come on. I’m buying. Do a shot with me. Have fun!”

“Why do you care if I have fun. You’ve known me for all of five minutes.”

“My friend bailed on me, I’m bored, you look like you might be amusing if you remembered how to remove whatever crawled up your ass and died. Humour me.” She stood and grabbed his hand, the same one she’d shaken moments before, and dragged him away from the booth. Cas let himself be dragged, thought he wasn’t really sure why. Charlie was probably going to order something girly and pink, or jagermeister, or any number of other awful things. He cringed at the thought. Still, it was one way to pass the time until his brother turned up, drunk and stumbling, and Cas could justify leaving. He found himself at the bar moments later as Charlie placed a shot glass full of something dark in front of him. So not a girly drink then. Ok.

“Bottoms up!” She cheered and downed hers without flinching. Castiel followed suit. Rum; not his favourite thing to drink straight, but the burn of it warmed him from the inside, and he felt a flush in his cheeks. “Dance floor?” Charlie asked, flashing him a grin and trying to drag him to where the crowd was thickest. Castiel suddenly got the idea that this girl was trying to get in to his pants. He shook his head and raised his hands defensively. “Relax!” Her body language spoke more clearly than her words. “I’m gay! There’s a zero percent chance I’m trying to seduce you.” He must have visibly relaxed as she spoke, because she laughed heartily and slapped her knee. Charlie resumed her attempt to drag him towards the dance floor, but he shook her off and gestured towards the side door.

“I need to get some air,” he explained, suddenly overwhelmed but the crowded room. He didn’t really expect Charlie to follow, but she seemed to have imprinted on him, like a puppy or something, and when he leaned against the wall of the club and drew a slow, calming breath, she leaned up against him. The front door banged open somewhere behind him, but Cas didn’t turn to look. Gabriel wouldn’t be leaving this early. Castiel ignored the newcomer until he heard his brother’s voice booming in the chill night air.

“Castiel, baby brother. You wouldn’t be bailing on me would you?” Gabriel sauntered across the sidewalk, his eyes glassy, and embraced his brother. Cas hugged back, awkwardly, still pressed back against the cold brick.

“Just getting some air, Gabe.” His brother laughed.

“Pity. When I couldn’t find you inside, it occurred to me you might have actually gone off to have fun somewhere. I should have known better.” Gabriel released his younger brother, then fished a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one up. Charlie sneered at him, wrinkled up her nose.

“Those things will kill you, you know.” She didn’t try to hide her disdain. Gabriel ignored her. His phone started to ring, the shrill tone cutting through the comparative quiet outside the club, and he handed Castiel his cigarette to dig in his pockets for the source of the sound.

“Here, hold this for me,” and he fished in to pockets, patted his jeans, until he found the right one, then dug out the small, sleek device and answered it. Castiel didn’t pay attention to the conversation, didn’t pay attention to the cigarette in his hand. He held it awkwardly off to the side, hoping to keep the thin trail of smoke from wafting too close to his own nose. He stared distractedly at the sky, wondering if he could convince Gabriel to call it a night.

“Ow!! Watch it with that thing! You could put somebody’s eye out!”   Cas spun towards the source of the yelling, and the collision. A dark haired woman clutched her arm, which Cas thought was probably exaggerated at least a little.

“Sorry,” he said, hoping to sound at least reasonably contrite. “I didn’t see you there.” He switched the cigarette to his other hand, holding it as far away from the startled woman as possible. She glared at him, her dark eyes fierce, until Castiel dropped the burning stub and snubbed it out under his boot.

“Jesus Pam, give the guy a break!” Charlie cried, giving the woman a shove. “You walked in to him, not the other way around. Castiel, this is Pamela. She’s the friend that bailed on me earlier.”

“I didn’t bail,” Pamela grumbled, taking a peek at the burn on her arm. A tiny angry red mark graced the outside of her forearm, but it wasn’t that bad. A graze, really. “I just ran in to an old friend. We were catching up.” Castiel glanced around and noticed his brother had disappeared again. So much for talking him in to an early departure. Pam spared another dramatic glance for her arm as they made their way back inside the club. Castiel was hit with a wall of heat as the doors opened, the crush of a thousand bodies raising the temperature in stark contrast to the deep chill that had settled into his bones. Pam and Charlie must be freezing, dressed in much less than he was, but neither of them complained. Castiel lost them in the crowd almost right away, not that he was paying much attention, and found a seat at different vacant booth than he’d sat at before.

He thought he caught a glimpse of Gabriel through the crowd. His small stature made him difficult to pick out, but Castiel was fairly certain it was his brother’s blonde hair he spotted, with a girl on each arm, before the crowd swallowed them up again. The clock on his phone read 12:15. Gabriel wasn’t leaving any time soon. For the thousandth time, Cas thought about taking off, going home. There were too many people here, too many bodies, crammed together. The back of his neck prickled, and he felt unsettled. But he’d feel worse, if he left and his brother failed to make his way home safely, so he stuffed his own discomfort into a distant corner of his mind and settled in to wait it out.

He started a new mental bingo-card, picking the stereotypes he hated so much out of the crowd once again, as he tried to pass the time until last call, until he knew Gabriel would stumble up and allow himself to be dragged home. At least, he told himself that’s what he was doing, but Castiel found his eyes searching the crowd, scanning for that square jaw, the deep eyes. So lost in thought and denial was Castiel, that he didn’t even notice Charlie approach until she dropped a fresh beer on the table in front of him and dropped on to the bench seat opposite him.

“Wake up, you broody bastard. I brought drinks, and company!” Charlie beamed as she scooted her butt into the center of the circular booth, and Pam slid in next to her. Cas looked down at the beer in front of him, nodded in appreciation, and took a long drink. He allowed himself a small smile, then paused, noticing that Charlie and Pam were both staring at him.

“What?” he barked. Charlie burst out laughing.

“You think you could slide over? Kinda taking up the whole seat there.” Castiel swivelled to see where the voice came from. Standing beside him, looming above him, really, was the owner of the face he’d definitely not been searching the crowd for. Cas felt his mouth go dry, and he tried to stammer out some kind of cohesive response, but it was swallowed up by the bass drop of some obnoxious dub-step the club was blaring, and so he just slid over closer to Charlie and tried to will his eyes not to bulge out of his skull.

His mind went blank. Why was this stunning man, this absolute god, sitting in a dingy nightclub next to him? What could he possibly have done to attract his attention?

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” The man’s voice boomed, and suddenly it clicked. Pam ran in to an old friend. Green-eyes wasn’t here for his benefit at all. He tried to avoid looking dejected.

“Castiel, this is my dear friend Dean Winchester. Dean, meet Castiel. I don’t know anything at all about him,” Pam seemed to be over the burn on her arm, at least for the time being. Dean raised his glass of what appeared to be whiskey and clinked it against Cas’s beer bottle.

“Good to meet ya, Castiel” he said with a grin. Pam and Charlie made futile attempts at conversation but Cas couldn’t engage. It was too loud, and sitting just inches from Dean, he found he couldn’t even pretend to focus. He was anxious, which was not a new thing, but being crammed in to this booth beside the current target of his desire had ramped up the discomfort and he didn’t know how long he could handle it. Castiel gritted his teeth and tried to focus on what the girls were saying. He thought he did a passable job of feigning attention; he nodded at what seemed like appropriate intervals, he mimicked facial expressions. The edge on his anxiety faded, blurred into the background, and Castiel found himself starting to believe that he would survive this night, that he might even have some fun.

Charlie was talking animatedly about….something. There were arm motions; Cas was pretty sure it was something to do with swords. He couldn’t make out the words, but it was either swords or a really poor imitation of a bird. He found himself laughing, just a little, and then the unfamiliar sound strangled in his throat, he choked on it, because there was a warm, solid weight on his thigh.

With practiced effort, he retained a semblance of calm on his face, still feigning understanding of the girls’ conversation, and stole a surreptitious glance at his lap for confirmation. Yup. Dean’s left hand was above the table, casually ensconcing his beer bottle, but his right had crept below the table was gently pressed just above Castiel’s knee. Cas poured his energy into breathing, forced his face to betray no trace of the arousal seeping into every cell of his body. Dean hadn’t moved his hand, not a millimetre, but the effect was devastating all the same.

Charlie must have said something funny, because Dean laughed, full and throaty. Cas parroted the laugh, keeping up appearances, although he had no idea what was so funny. He drained the remainder of his beer in a long, slow gulp, letting the cool, bitter drink distract him from the hand on his knee, the one that was now starting to move in slow, patient strokes. Tried to let it distract him, at least. It wasn’t working. Dean’s hand paused, stilled, at the top of Castiel’s leg, dangerously close to where he grew hard and uncomfortable in his jeans. For once, he was grateful for the overwhelming volume of the music, because without it, the needy whimper that he couldn’t quite choke back would have been audible to the two women across the table. As it was, he was pretty sure Dean heard him.

Castiel hadn’t dared look in Dean’s direction. Part of him was afraid that if he acknowledged what was happening under the table, Dean would stop. Another part of him was afraid that even if he acknowledged it, Dean wouldn’t. There was no telling which he feared more. Dean’s hand wandered, daring to caress his inner thigh, along the inseam of his jeans, and when Cas still didn’t protest, the hand crept up higher. Dean let the back of his hand brush lightly against Castiel’s erection. He didn’t linger, and Cas was desperately grateful. There was no way he could keep his cool much longer, not if Dean kept up his maddening tease.

He noticed then, and was a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed sooner, that Charlie and Pam had stopped trying to engage the table in conversation. They were still talking, to an extent. Charlie had her head ducked, a broad grin across her lips, and Pam was speaking in to her ear, no attention spared for the boys across the table, no attention for anything else. They laughed, not the boisterous laughter of earlier, but something more private, a giggle. Charlie seemed to notice she was being observed, and blushed a little, then stood abruptly.

“Hate to break up the party, but, uh…Pam and I are getting out of here.” Her slender fingers wrapped around the other woman’s wrist, dragging her off into the crowd and presumably, toward the door. The second they were out of sight, the hand disappeared from Castiel’s lap, leaving him achingly aroused. He turned to look at the other man now, for the first time since he’d slid over and made room for him in the booth. Dean licked his lips, his tongue darting out for just a split second, and stared back at Castiel with a dangerous amusement on his face. He leaned in close, his lips oh so near to Castiel’s own mouth, but turned at the last second and instead brought his face alongside Cas’s ear. When he spoke, his voice was low and raspy, from the whiskey or from arousal, Cas couldn’t be sure.

“So Cas, you wanna get out of here?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the smut starts now.

Castiel struggled to keep his breath even, struggled not to give away any indication of how much every fibre of his being was screaming _YES!_ It was pointless, of course. He was sure naked desire was painted all over his features. Dean laughed softly, pulling back from Castiel and sliding out of the booth. Cas sat there, his mind racing, because not an hour ago he’d admitted to himself that he’d jump at the chance. That was back when this was pure fantasy though. Something he’d toyed with when Dean didn’t even know his name. Something left over from when it was just another scenario to run through later, after he tucked his drunken brother in to bed, crawled in to his own room, fuel to bring himself to a quick and messy climax in the darkness of his empty bed. Now, presented with the very real opportunity to play it out with the actual Dean, not the one in his head, he was panicked. It wasn’t the sex that scared him. Cas was far from inexperienced. There was something terrifying, though, about the whole picking up a gorgeous stranger at a bar, having mind-blowing sex, and parting ways without so much as a word. He was used to relationships, even if they were unhealthy ones. Friends with benefits, on the rare occasions when there was anyone in his life he’d consider a friend, or broken relationships with other broken people. The idea of sex with no strings thrilled him, but it also terrified him. He realized he was still sitting in the booth, staring at Dean, and Dean was staring back at him. Something shifted in the other man’s face just then, softened. He stepped back towards Cas, grabbed his hand and pulled him up from the booth, and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Come on. I know a diner that does great pancakes.” Castiel let himself be guided towards the door, comforted by the weight of Dean’s arm across his shoulders, though he wasn’t entirely certain what had transpired in the other man’s mind in that brief moment of eye contact. Had he decided that the idea of sex with Cas was no longer appealing? Was he just messing with him? The shorter man tried to talk himself down, tried fight the instinct to over-analyze. He always over-analyzed things. Gabriel made fun of him for it on a regular basis. Mister worst-case scenario, he called him, and Castiel grimaced, gritted his teeth and tried to bear it with good nature when he did, because it was true. He expected the worst all the time. But wasn’t he just being practical? Things, in Castiel’s experience, tended to end up taking a turn for the worse, more often than not, so really he was just preparing for the inevitable.

He should run out of the club right now, run home and never look back. That would be the practical thing. Then Dean would never have a chance to realize what a mistake he was making, engaging in…whatever this was going to be. Never have a chance to reject Castiel out of hand, never get close enough to see what a fucked up person he was dealing with. As if sensing Castiel’s panic, the arm around his shoulder tightened, just slightly, and he felt himself pressed close against Dean’s body as they walked out the doors and in to the cold night air.

Gabriel. Shit. Cas felt a sudden pang of guilt for leaving without his brother. His instinct was to turn around, go back in side and wait for the older sibling to stumble up to him, but Gabriel’s voice echoed in his head. _You never have any fun, baby brother. Come out to the club with me. Let loose!!_ If Cas went back inside now, Gabriel would never let him hear the end of it. So instead, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and tapped out a text message.

_Went to get pancakes. Sorry I left without you. Have a good time._

“Who are you texting?” Dean asked, glancing down at the phone in Cas’s hands, as he guided the shorter man around a corner.

“My brother. He’ll probably be too drunk to notice the message, but at least he won’t be able to say I bailed on him.” Dean nodded in acknowledgement, then released his grip on Cas’s shoulder and fished a key ring out of the pocket of his jeans. He gestured with his free hand towards the long black car at the curb, then unlocked the passenger door for Cas.

“This is me.” Dean strode around to the other side, opened the driver’s side door.

“How much have you had to drink?” Cas hesitated.

“Just the one. I wouldn’t be driving if it was any more. Come on, get in. It’s cold out here.” Castiel weighed the options for a moment. He had no reason to trust this man. He knew literally nothing about him. He could be far more drunk than he was letting on. He could be dangerous in other ways. Mister worst-case-scenario, at it again. Castiel looked through the windshield and found himself totally disarmed by the warm, open smile on Dean’s face. Yeah, ok, maybe. Screw caution. Mostly. Cas stepped back and snapped a quick picture with his cell-phone’s camera, texted it to Gabriel, then tucked his phone away and slid in to the roomy interior of the car.

“What was that?” Dean asked, as he eased the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.

“Your licence plate. If they find me dead in a ditch three days from now, my brother will know whose car I left the club in.” Dean sputtered a laugh.

            “Are you serious? You think there’s a chance I’m going to murder you and leave your body on the side of the road, and your answer is to take a picture of my car? You have some fucked up priorities dude.”

            “What can I say, you’re hot. It’s clouding my judgement.” Cas blushed at his own words, suddenly wishing he had them back. It’s not like Dean didn’t already know Cas found him attractive. It’s just that saying it out loud was…uncharacteristic.

            “Well, trust me, Castiel, when I say that there is not a single thing going to happen to you tonight that you don’t totally, completely, consent to.” His voice was jovial, but Cas thought he detected just a hint of the rough, lusty tone that had come through when he murmured in Cas’s ear earlier. Cas felt his arousal growing again.

“If I was going to pick someone up at a nightclub and murder them, I sure as fuck wouldn’t do it in my own car. I’d get a rental in a fake name, or steal a car.” Cas laughed as he spoke.

“What, like you’ve thought about it?” Dean glanced briefly as he pulled the car into the parking lot of a 24-hour diner, picking a parking spot as far away from the other cars as possible. He killed the engine, but didn’t get out of the car right away.

“I think about a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I’m going to do them. Just means I know how I would do it if I did.” Cas said matter-of-factly. _I know how to bake pies. I got chased by a dog for fourteen blocks once. I know how I’d get away with killing you if I decided to do it._ Dean just laughed.

“You’re a weird dude, Cas.” Dean said as he slid out of the car and led the way in to the diner. A tiny bell jingled as the door opened. Dean grabbed two menus off of a stack on the counter and picked his way across the chequered linoleum to a red vinyl booth in the corner. He slid on to one of the bench seats, pushing himself to the far edge and relaxing as he shrugged off his leather jacket. Cas sat a bit more stiffly on the opposite bench, uncomfortable now that he was forced to make eye contact. He noticed that Dean didn’t open the menu in front of him. Rather, he stared at Cas. It wasn’t a judgemental stare, but Cas felt like he was being weighed and measured, like Dean was looking for evidence of something, one way or another, in Cas’s face. He squirmed under the attention, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean’s. Finally, after long seconds of study, Dean gave a small, unreadable nod, and turned his attention to the menu in front of him. Castiel did the same, not really paying attention to the words on the page in front of him. What exactly was he doing here? He’d known this guy all of an hour, knew nothing about him other than his name, and the fact that he drove an older model Chevy. It was uncharacteristically impulsive for Cas to even have a conversation with a stranger, let alone get in their car and drive through the night to some random diner. It was even less in line with Castiel’s modus operandi to _want_ to be here. Castiel was half way through a mental list of all the reasons he shouldn’t be doing this, reasons he should leave, reasons he should run, things that could go wrong, when a middle aged waitress with bottle red hair and a nametag that read “Nancy” approached the table to take their orders. Castiel realized he still hadn’t read a single word on the page.

“What can I get for ya, darlins?” she drawled. Castiel couldn’t place the accent, but she wasn’t local. She poised a pen over her notepad and flashed them a friendly, if practiced smile, and waited for a response. Shit. Shit shit shit. There must have been something visible on Cas’s face, because Dean spoke before he had a chance to act on the panic.

“Coffee for both of us, please, and two short-stacks with a side of bacon. Thanks.” Dean flashed the waitress the same disarming grin he’d shown Cas when he’d hesitated outside the car and handed her the menus. The waitress sauntered off casually, and returned a moment later with two mugs and a steaming carafe of coffee. Cas poured three creamers in to his own coffee, and a conservative dose of sugar from the glass and chrome jar on the table. Dean sipped his own coffee as it was, smiling into the steam, before setting the mug down on the table and meeting Castiel’s eyes again.

“So. Castiel. You’re out at a night club you clearly don’t want to be at, with a brother you’re not actually partying with. You’re hanging out with girls you don’t know, looking like you’d rather be literally anywhere else. And you’re staring at me across the bar with dirty thoughts painted all over your face, but you freeze the second I come on to you. What’s going on in that head of yours? I don’t get it.” Castiel nearly choked on his coffee. He set the mug down carefully, trying not to let his hands twitch, trying not to dart his eyes towards the door.

“I don’t do so well around people. Not new ones, not large groups.” He said, like that was a complete answer, and he meant to say more, but Dean nodded. He reached an arm across the table and rested his hand on Castiel’s. Cas meant to jerk his hand away, really, he did, but Dean’s palm was warm, and his calloused thumb was working small circles in to the back of Cas’s hand, and it was soothing and disarming and such a familiar gesture that he found himself relaxing. He was still incredibly uncomfortable, but it took the edge off, and it was enough that he started speaking again.

“I only end up at nightclubs when my brother drags me. He loves them. I don’t get it. But he insists. He thinks I need to ‘have more fun’,” Castiel made air quotes around the words, rolling his eyes in judgement of his brother’s meddling. “I have plenty of fun. I just don’t have it in stupid night clubs.”

“I get that. I’m not exactly a big fan either. I’d much rather have a drink somewhere I can hear myself think. What’s the point if you can’t even have a good conversation?” And Castiel found himself smiling, because Dean’s opinion mirrored his own perfectly, and the common ground made him feel at ease.

“So why were you there, then? Who dragged you out?” Castiel sipped his coffee, letting the familiar taste soothe him, calming his ragged nerves. He could enjoy sitting here, chatting with this attractive stranger, if he could just calm down.

“Guys from work. I keep turning them down, but tonight they wouldn’t take no for an answer. They’re already all too drunk to notice I’ve left.” Dean’s hand was still resting on Cas’s. Something unreadable came over his face, and he pulled his hand away, wrapped it around his coffee cup, like he’d just noticed it was resting there. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I usually read people better than that. I thought you…”

“No, it’s ok,” Cas found himself babbling. “I do. I just don’t usually…this is new territory for me. You didn’t read anything wrong. I just didn’t think…” he trailed off. That was a lot more than he wanted to vocalize. What was he supposed to say? ‘I was totally fantasizing about you, but as soon as I thought about you as a real person I lost the ability to deal?’ He looked down at his coffee cup sadly.

“What, you didn’t think I’d be interested in you? Dude I don’t know if you realize this, but you’re a stone cold fox.” Cas felt his cheeks heating. “Look, pressure’s totally off. You want this to go somewhere naked, you say the word, but I’m not going to push for anything you aren’t ready for.” Dean paused, trying to read Cas’s face. “Would it make you more comfortable if we talked about something else?” Cas nodded. Dean leaned back in his seat, his posture casual and confident. “Well then, lets get to know each other a little.”

 

As they ate pancakes (and Dean was right, they were killer pancakes), they talked. Well, Dean talked, mostly. Cas listened. Dean talked about his job in a garage across town, how much he loved working on cars, how much he wished there was more money in it because it was a great job otherwise. He talked about his younger brother, who was away at college, and how proud he was of the kid. He talked about his car, how much he loved that car, how it was the only good thing his absent father had ever given him. As Castiel got to know more about the man across the table from him, he found himself relaxing. His breathing evened out, the crawling feeling on the back of his neck subsided, and he found himself actually comforted by the man’s presence. Eventually, he found himself comfortable enough to start contributing to the conversation.

“My own father was absent, as well,” Cas offered, and Dean looked almost startled to hear him speaking. “I barely knew him, so it’s not like I missed him. My mother raised Gabriel and I on her own.” It was almost a relief to speak. “She’s gone now. It’s just me and Gabe.” Castiel’s bond with his brother was one of the few good things in his life. He relied on him, but he knew his older sibling needed him as well. Castiel was the practical one, the one who kept the household in order. Gabriel was the ‘fun’ brother. Usually, that meant he didn’t bother with trivial things like paying his bills or grocery shopping. Castiel often wondered what his brother’s life would be like without Cas there to orchestrate the mundane details. He also wondered how boring his own life would be without Gabriel there to inject excitement in to it. He certainly wouldn’t be speaking with Dean right now if it weren’t for Gabe.

Cas slid his phone out of his pocket to check the time. There was a text message from his brother. He read it silently before returning the phone to his jeans.

“What’s up?” Dean asked, as he pulled cash out of his wallet and dropped it on the cheque. Cas had tried to protest, insist that he pay for his own food, but Dean pointedly ignored his argument.

“My brother. He’s gone home with someone. I’m not to wait up, apparently.”

“Well good for him. You want a ride home then? It’s getting late, I bet you want to go home and go to sleep.” Dean slid his arms back in to the sleeves of his jacket, settling the collar with practiced ease.

“I just drank three cups of coffee at 2 am. I’m not sleeping any time soon.” Cas stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat as they walked towards the door, steeling himself for the anticipated chill.

“Ok well how about I drive you home, and if you feel like inviting me in and putting on a movie, then I’ll let you know in advance that I’m gonna accept. Fair?”

“Fair,” Castiel conceded with a nod.

 

“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Castiel warned, as he unlocked the door to the apartment he shared with Gabriel. “My brother is a terrible housekeeper, and I don’t always have the desire to pick up after him.”

“You call this a mess?” Dean’s voice was incredulous as the door to the apartment swung open. “I’d hate to see what this place looks like when you’d call it clean. Jesus. I don’t think my apartment looks like this even on a good day.” Cas tried to hide his embarrassment. There was unfolded laundry in a basket next to the washer, and empty beer bottles on the table. He never would have left it like this if he knew he’d have company.

“Do you want a beer?” Cas offered. Dean had bought him pancakes, driven him home. It was the least he could offer.

“Not if I’m driving home.” Came Dean’s reply, an unspoken question hiding behind the statement. Cas wasn’t oblivious enough to miss it.

“I’m not making any promises—“

“And I’m not asking for any. I’m just saying.”

“But you can crash here one way or another, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Cas handed the green eyed man a beer as he took his jacket off. Dean accepted the beer with a nod, taking a long drink, then set it down on the coffee table. Cas noticed that he stopped to grab a coaster before he did. Dean sank into the couch, rolling up the sleeves on his plaid button-down, revealing well muscled arms. He tried not to stare. Castiel took his own beer in hand and walked over to the bookcase full of DVDs. He knew everything that was there, could have listed the collection without looking, but he was suddenly very conscious of the heat in his cheeks and the way the stubble on Dean’s throat moved when he swallowed his beer. He ran his eyes over the collection of movies before him, and he was so focused on not freaking out that he didn’t notice Dean leave his seat on the couch until he felt firm hands resting his hips. Cas nearly dropped his beer as he spun to face the taller man. Dean was right up inside his personal space. Cas could feel the warmth radiating from him. He could smell the beer on his breath and the cologne on his skin and a hint of motor oil and leather. His lips were so close Castiel could almost imagine what it would feel like to kiss him. It wouldn’t be hard. He’d only have to lean in a few inches; just close his eyes and lean in and…Oh. In the seconds it took Castiel to over-analyze their proximity, Dean took the decision away from him. His lips were soft, and he tasted like the beer he’d been drinking. For a moment, Cas was stunned. He froze as Dean kissed him softly and sweetly, but snapped back to himself when he realized _this is really happening_ , and pressed himself closer to turn it from chaste and tender to hot and steamy. Dean’s hands remained on his hips, and Castiel lifted his free hand to rest against the hard muscle of Dean’s chest.

Castiel felt his back pressed up against the bookcase and he remembered that he was standing in that particular part of the room for a reason.

“We probably don’t actually need to pick a movie, do we?” he asked, as Dean broke the kiss to mouth at his jaw. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to pay much attention.” Dean laughed under his breath and shook his head slightly, as he wrapped a hand around Cas’s wrist and pulled him back toward the couch. Cas set his beer down on the table, the bottle forgotten the second it was out of his hand, and let Dean guide him down to lie on his back. The taller man settled down on top of him, one knee between Castiel’s thighs, and claimed Castiel’s mouth in another deep, hungry kiss. Dean’s tongue darted out between his soft lips to lap at Castiel’s mouth. Castiel let his hands roam Dean’s body, touching everything he could reach. He dragged his palms against the hard muscles of his back, traced the curve of his hip. Dean let out a little moan as Cas’s hands found the firm swell of his ass and gripped him tightly through his jeans. That might have been because it pulled his hips down against Castiel’s thigh; the press of his erection was unmistakeable.

Cas let himself get lost in the kiss. He closed his eyes and drifted as Dean devoured him. He was drunk on lust more than alcohol but his head swam anyway. Cas rolled his hips upwards to meet Dean’s, feeling his own hardness press against the other man’s leg. Distantly, Cas heard a sound somewhat like a low moan, and it took a moment for it to cut through the fog in his head before he realized it was coming from his own throat. His hands moved of their own accord, sliding up from Dean’s ass and ducking under the fabric of his shirts. His skin was warm, hot even, and he hummed with pleasure against Cas’s mouth as deft fingers traced the topography of his spine, the plains of muscle across his back, the expanse of his shoulders. Cas didn’t realize he was breathless until Dean’s lips left his, instead finding their way to his throat. He tipped his head back to give Dean better access and sighed, revelling in the soft press of lips against his neck, his collar bone.

Dean’s face came back into Cas’s field of view. He left a trail of small kisses up Cas’s jaw, towards his ear, and his breath was hot as he whispered,

“How far do you want this to go?” Castiel groaned in reply and ground his hips upwards against Dean as he dragged him back in for another kiss. Dean kissed him back with the same passion as before, but just for a heartbeat.

“I need to hear you say it, Cas. I’m serious. I told you, this isn’t going anywhere you don’t explicitly want.” Dean’s pupils were blown wide with lust, his lips swollen with the heat of their kisses as he held himself just out of Cas’s reach and waited for his answer. Wanting it was easy, now that he had the heat of Dean’s body pressed against him. Castiel’s voice came out barely above a whisper, breathy and needy.

“I want you. I want everything.” He imagined his own eyes showed the truth of that as much as Dean’s did. Dean’s grin was open and charming as it curved the corners of his mouth upwards. He held Castiel’s eyes for a moment longer before his lips were back on Castiel’s mouth, like he’d been searching Castiel’s stare for confirmation and now that he had it, there was nothing left to prevent him from devouring Castiel whole. Dean ground his hips down against Castiel’s prone form as he kissed him with renewed fervour. He held his weight off Cas with one arm, while the other tangled in the mess of Cas’s hair. Castiel’s own hands roamed over Dean’s body, touching everywhere he could reach. Dean moaned approval against his mouth, and when Cas turned away to bite at his neck, he spoke again.

“Do you want me here, or should we move this to the bedroom?” Castiel dragged his lips down Dean’s throat before answering, pleased at the noises the larger man made as he did so.

“Bedroom.” He breathed. He released Dean’s hips reluctantly, already missing the warmth as Dean stood up and offered his hand to help Cas up. Cas let himself be dragged to his feet, then led the way to his bedroom with Dean’s hand on his hip. He pushed the door closed behind them, then stripped the plaid shirt from Dean’s shoulders and pressed him against the door and kissed him again. His hands found their way to the buckle on Dean’s belt and he fumbled it open, driven clumsy by lust and desire. He tore open the button and zipper of Dean’s jeans roughly, then pushed the whole bundle down over Dean’s hips. He palmed Dean’s already-hard dick through his boxers, and Dean groaned in pleasure as he let himself be manhandled.

Dean hands were warm against Castiel’s skin as they slipped under the hem of his tee-shirt. He dragged the fabric upwards and Cas was forced to abandon Dean’s dick and lift his arms to free himself from the garment. He dropped his own jeans, letting his boxers follow, and left a breathy trail of kisses down Dean’s neck and across his chest. He knelt gently on the carpet and tucked his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s underwear. The grey fabric strained to contain Dean’s length as Cas dragged them downwards, mouthing at his stomach and hipbones as the shorts fell to the floor. He took Dean’s cock in his mouth the moment it was free. Cas’s lips closed around the shaft and he swallowed him down, caressing the length with his tongue, then slid back to mouth at the tip. For his own part, Dean gasped at the warm wetness that enveloped him. His hips twitched as he leaned away from the door enough to remove tee-shirt, and then he dropped his hands to Cas’s head. With a gentle touch, he carded his fingers through Castiel’s already messy hair.

Castiel dragged his tongue up Dean’s cock, from base to tip, then took the whole length in his mouth again, almost gagging as he swallowed him down. He’d never been particularly skilled at deep-throating, but what he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm. The noises Dean let tumble from those perfect lips were proof enough of that. As Castiel licked and sucked at Dean’s cock, he held his hips against the door with one hand, and slid the other between Dean’s legs to caress his balls. Dean groaned again, and his hips bucked against Cas’s hand. When Dean’s breathing became shallower, ragged, Castiel finally pulled away, kissing back up Dean’s torso as he stood. He kicked off his socks as he backed toward the bed.

Castiel sat down in nearly the center of the bed, propped up on his elbows, and waited for Dean to follow. Dean didn’t join him on the bed, though. He approached, but grabbed Cas behind the knees and dragged him back toward the foot of the bed. Before Castiel could react, before he could make a noise, Dean’s mouth was on his cock, and he was decidedly _not_ unskilled when it came to sucking dick. He took as much of Cas into his mouth as he could fit, and wrapped his hand around the rest, and Cas felt a blissed-out smile creep across his lips. Dean’s tongue and Dean’s lips and Dean’s hand and even a little touch of Dean’s teeth drove him crazy. Cas collapsed on to the bed, dropping his arms out to the side as he fell.

“Holy Fuck Dean!” he moaned, and Dean let out a little laugh. It sent delicious vibrations down the length of Cas’s cock and up his spine. Dean slid his mouth off Cas’s cock, but kept his fist sliding up and down, twisting his wrist as he went, as he kissed at Cas’s hips.

“I wanna fuck you, Cas.” He murmured. His breath was hot on Cas’s skin. “Do you want that?” His thumb flicked across the head of Cas’s cock, smearing precome and saliva in its wake.

“God yes!” Cas cried out. He reached over and fumbled with the drawer on his nightstand, groping blindly for lube and a condom as Dean’s lips kissed their way back up the hard shaft of his cock. He found the objects he sought and tossed them down on the bed beside him, finding he was no longer capable of anything more coordinated than that, not with Dean’s skilled mouth wrapped around his dick. Dean didn’t reach for the lube right away. He hitched one of Cas’s legs over his shoulder and caressed the tight ring of muscle with the tip of one finger. Cas gasped. He’d forgotten how good that could feel. Then Dean slipped Cas’s cock out of his mouth and wrapped a hand around it, sliding up and down at a casual, lazy pace, and pressed the flat of his tongue where his finger had teased only a moment before.

Castiel’s eyes flew open in surprise and pleasure. Dean’s tongue was warm and wet, and he probed at Cas with just enough pressure to draw a keening moan from his throat. His hand still worked at Cas’s cock and between the two, Cas was reduced to a whimpering wreck. He was beyond all conscious thought, just a body reacting to lust and desire and sensation, but somewhere in the back of his mind he harboured an idle thought that he could come, just like this. It felt so good, and yet he wanted more.

“Dean….” He moaned out, his voice low and wrecked, and Dean took the hint. Suddenly all the sensation was gone, the mouth and the hand, and he heard Dean clicking open the tube of lube. The tongue was soon replaced with a slick finger, probing and pushing in to him, and Cas hissed and arched at the intrusion. Dean pressed in slowly as he sat back to watch Cas’s reactions. He worked him open gently, waiting until Cas relaxed around him before adding a second finger, and clearly revelling in Cas’s enthusiastic reactions. By the time he added the third, Cas was breathing hard and bucking against Dean’s hand, impaling himself on his fingers. He was already coming apart at the seams and he didn’t care. Dean just felt so _good_.

            When he was satisfied that his partner was prepared, Dean climbed up the bed, perched himself over Cas, and rolled the condom over his own hard cock.. He met Cas’s eyes, his own green ones heavy lidded and lust-blown, as he fit himself to Cas’s hole and pressed in slowly. Cas cried out as he slid in, never breaking eye contact for a second. Dean stilled as he bottomed out, pausing for just a heartbeat before his hips started to move in a slow, gentle rhythm. Castiel delighted in the intoxicating sensation of skin dragging on skin. Each thrust was long and tantalizing. Dean pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in to him, taking his time, like he wanted to feel every inch of Cas. The rhythm became gradually faster, a little harder, and Cas rocked his hips upward to meet the thrusts, drawing Dean’s cock as deep as he could get it.

            Dean pushed Cas’s knees up, tucking them almost to his chest. He leaned over Cas, propping himself up on one arm and sliding the other between their bodies to caress Cas’s cock as he thrust in to him. Dean’s hand was light and teasing; barely touching Cas as he ghosted up and down. The new position of their hips allowed Dean to change the angle of his thrusts, and he grazed against the little bundle of nerves inside Cas. He cried out at the intense sensation. Dean thrust in to him again and again, making sure to hit that spot every few thrusts, and his grip on Cas’s cock grew firmer, more urgent.

            “Come for me, Cas,” Dean demanded. His hips were slamming into Cas now, thrusts hard and hurried, and Castiel suspected he was nearing his own orgasm. He gripped Dean’s shoulders with bruising force as he bucked his hips up, meeting Dean’s thrusts with as much strength as he could, taking him in hard and fast and deep. He felt the telltale sensation in his core, the one that told him he was close, and he closed his eyes and let Dean ride him over the edge, spilling hot and messy over Dean’s fist. Dean released his softening cock and braced his hand on Cas’s hip, his thrusts losing al rhythm as he fucked Cas frantically, desperately chasing release as Cas’ writhed under him. The last shudders of orgasm still shook him as Dean climaxed, his mouth frozen in a silent scream. He thrust into Cas two, three more times, before collapsing on the bed beside him, panting and sticky and sated.

Neither man spoke for long minutes afterwards. It was Cas who moved first. He untangled their limbs and padded softly to the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with a washcloth and two bottles of water. He handed the towel and one bottle to Dean to clean himself off, and drank half of his bottle before setting it on the nightstand and climbing under the dishevelled bedclothes.

Dean stood on unsteady legs, his head still swimming from the intensity of their coupling. As he walked toward the door, Castiel permitted himself a nice long look at his firm, well muscled ass, before calling out to him.

“Bathroom’s on the left. There’s a new toothbrush on the counter, if you like.” He was nearly asleep by the time Dean returned, though it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. Dean pulled his boxers out of the pile of clothes on the floor, stepping in to them and climbing in to bed silently. He pressed himself up behind Castiel, draped an arm across his waist, and settled in to sleep.

 

Castiel woke to the sound of Gabriel banging on his bedroom door. He blinked hazily, sorting through his memories of the previous night as he groped at the nightstand for his phone. Ten am. Ugh. He did some quick math and was entirely displeased with the number of hours of sleep he figured he’d gotten. Not that he was upset with the reason he’d been kept up. He rolled over to greet the source of that distraction and felt a pit open up in his stomach when the other side of the bed was empty. Dean left.

Castiel wasn’t sure why he was so disappointed. That’s what people did on one-night stands, right? He shouldn’t have expected Dean to stick around. Only, it didn’t seem like an uninvolved fuck at the time. His mind drifted back to the diner, spending hours talking about everything and nothing. He let himself remember how tender Dean had been, how he’d made a point of not pressuring Cas into anything. How insistent he’d been on Cas’s comfort before they’d moved to the bedroom. That didn’t seem like an anonymous screw.

“I’m up Gabe, I’m up! What’s the crisis?!” He bellowed, as Gabriel pounded his fist against the door again.

“You decent? I’m coming in!” The door opened and Gabriel sauntered in, still in the same clothes he’d worn to the bar the previous evening. Cas glanced under the blanket and confirmed his suspicions. He was still naked. “So, who’d you _go for pancakes_ with? Has my boring little brother finally learned how to have fun?” Gabriel leaned against the dresser beside Castiel’s door with a casual air,

“We _did_ go for pancakes, you insufferable ass. We just also….you know, I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Castiel flipped open his phone and attempted to ignore Gabriel. No new messages, no missed calls. He should have had the presence of mind to ask for Dean’s number before he fell asleep last night.

“Right. So where is he, then?”

“Apparently I’m only amusing in the short term.” He sighed, flopping back down on the pillows in exasperation. “Can you go away so I can put some pants on? What did you want anyway?”

“Breakfast. Gotta chase this hangover away with bacon. Get your ass up, we’re leaving in ten.” Gabe strode out the door and closed it behind him, much louder than was necessary. Castiel dressed quickly and stumbled out after him, completely missing the hastily folded note tucked under his lamp.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's a Grade A barely functioning moron, and Castiel prefers cupcakes to people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Cas is talking about is one of my favourites from the past few years. It's pretty weird and it totally got inside my head. I'd definitely reccommend it. It's quirky and weird. I like weird.

Dean was in his car half way to his own apartment, bleary with lack of sleep and thoroughly distracted by resurgent memories of the previous night’s escapades before he realized he’d made a terrible mistake.

“FUCK!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. He’d only left because Bobby called him in to work. If he had it his way, he’s still be tucked up I in Cas’s bed, maybe waking Cas up for round two, maybe spending the whole day there. But of course, three of the guys who’d dragged him out last night had called in ‘sick’, and Bobby was short staffed, and he did need the overtime. Ok, so that part he could deal with. But why didn’t he leave Cas his number?

He’d had the good sense to leave a note at least.

 _Thanks for a great night. Got called in to work. See you soon. Dean_.

What kind of a barely functioning moron leaves a note like that and doesn’t put his number on it somewhere? Dean tried to brush off his disappointment as he arrived in his apartment’s parking lot and eased the Impala in to his parking spot. If he hurried upstairs, he’d have time for a shower. Maybe he’d even have time to stop for breakfast. Yes. Those breakfast sandwiches with the egg and the cheese and the sausage, and the little hashbrown things. And coffee. The largest motherfucking coffee money could buy.

Dean let the hot shower distract him from his stupidity. He was half way through washing his hair when he heard his phone chirp out a text alert from the counter. His heart jumped up in to his throat for a fraction of a second before he remembered. _No, you idiot. It’s not Cas. You didn’t give him your fucking number, remember? You’ll never see him again. Fuck you._ The text tone distracted him enough that he ended up with soap in his eyes, and he bit back a curse as he frantically scrubbed it out under the spray of the shower. It only made things worse. When he stepped out of the shower his eyes were red and sore. He blinked tentatively but the sting of soap didn’t come. Thankfully. He dried off hastily and hoped he still had enough time to stop for breakfast. Dean resigned himself to stopping whether he had time or not. It was supposed to be his day off; if he was going to get called in he’d get breakfast and show up when he could. That was only fair, right? He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the text message as he walked to his room to get dressed. Dean knew it couldn’t be from Cas, but it was hard not to be disappointed when his suspicions were confirmed and Pam’s name flashed on his screen.

_Nice running in to you last night sugar. Don’t be such a stranger. Coffee soon?_

Dean tapped out a hasty reply before digging through a drawer for a comfy pair of boxer-briefs. It seemed all his favourites had developed holes. Everything was destined to go wrong today. He sighed.

_Yeah definitely. You and that redhead seemed to be having a good time. You going to see her again?_

He dragged a plain tee-shirt over his head and stepped into the first pair of jeans he found in his hamper. It didn’t really matter, he’d be in coveralls in under an hour anyway.

_What, Charlie? Dean I know we haven’t hung out in a while but you do remember I like dick, right? Charlie’s a friend. But I could ask you the same question about that broody motherfucker who burned me with the smoke. You two seemed plenty cozy._

Dean glared at his phone as he tugged his shoes on and headed for the door.

_Yeah, Castiel and I got along just fine. Unfortunately, I’m a complete fucking moron and I left without getting his number, so no, I’m not going to see him again any time soon._

He tossed the phone on the passenger seat of his car and backed out in to the street still silently grumbling about what a fucking idiot he was.

 

By the time he arrived at the garage Dean was feeling a little bit less like a useless idiot. He had a gigantic coffee and a greasy sandwich and it was doing wonders to improve his grey mood. He parked the Impala in the back and spared a brief glance for his phone on his way in to the garage.

_Oh that’s a damn shame, Dean. Did you at least get to know him a little before you ran away?_

 

_Yeah we went for pancakes. He’s good company once you get him talking._

Dean smiled at the memory. Cas _was_ good company, he decided. He was resolute in his opinions even though he was guarded in discussing them. Dean got the impression he could be rather hard to keep up with once he got going on a subject. Too bad he’d never get to find out. Dean changed in to his coveralls and finished his coffee as the phone chirped again.

_I meant in the biblical sense you idiot._

Pam’s reply irked him. Dean knew exactly what she meant the first time. He’d chosen to ignore it. Didn’t much want to talk about it this time either.

_Doesn’t matter. Don’t get to see him again, remember?_

He tucked his phone into his pocket and made his way in to the garage. Maybe a long day of oil changes and tire rotations would take his mind off his foolishness.

 

 

Gabriel dragged Castiel to one of the trendier breakfast places in town. They had already been waiting 45 minutes for a table, which didn’t do much to improve Cas’s mood. That’s 45 more minutes he could have been sleeping. Forty Five extra minutes of consciousness without coffee. And Gabriel talked the entire time.

“You’ve got to try the banana French toast here, Cas. It’s killer. They do the bananas up with this brown sugar caramel, and there’s walnuts and whipped cream. It’s amazing.” Castiel nodded in response. He wasn’t really paying attention. “Or the fried chicken and waffles. They make this syrup that’s got bourbon in it. And they do biscuits and sausage gravy just like you can get in the South. The food here is amazing!”

“Is that why it takes all day to get a damn table?” Castiel grumbled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It had been a full hour now since they joined the end of the line and there were at least 3 tables to be seated before them. His stomach rumbled angrily. Just before he tucked his phone away, the screen lit up with a text message. It wasn’t from anyone in his contact list and the number was unfamiliar. He opened the message with curiousity.

_Hey you broody bastard. How did you and mister tall, dark and dreamy get on last night?_

Something about that phrasing was familiar. He pondered for a moment before replying. He’d completely tuned Gabe out now.

_Charlie? How did you get my number?_

The reply came almost right away. He supposed she might have been anticipating that very question.

_Stole your phone when your brother came outside last night. Sent myself a text. I’ve decided to take you under my wing. You need more fun._

_How kind of you._

Castiel sent the message and glanced up at Gabe. He was still talking. He was always talking. But the hostess came out the front door at that moment and led them through to a table in the corner, so he tucked his phone away for the moment. The waitress brought coffee shortly after they sat down. Cas didn’t bother opening his menu until he’d taken his first sip of syrupy sweet, milky, caffeinated goodness. There were far too many options. A full page of French toast creations. Seven different kinds of eggs Benedict. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back in that diner eating pancakes with Dean. Wishful thinking. He closed the menu and set it down on the table and took another sip of coffee before pulling his phone out again. He had another message from Charlie.

_Aw it’s not like that. I happen to think you’re pretty awesome. But you didn’t answer my question. How did things go with Dean?_

Castiel sighed and considered telling Charlie where to cram her questions. But she’d been nice to him, and he _had_ only met Dean because of her meddling.

_Super. Right up until the point where he left while I was sleeping._

Castiel picked the menu back up. Gabe was right, hangovers require bacon. When the waitress came back around he ordered French toast with apples and cinnamon and a side order of bacon. He couldn’t tell if it was a grin or a grimace that slid across his face as she refilled his coffee mug.

“What’s eating you, Cas?” Gabe probed as soon as the waitress walked away. “You are in one hell of a mood this morning.” Castiel glared at him.

“Of course I’m in a shitty mood,” he grumbled. “I let my genius brother drag me out to a club last night, which I hated. I have a killer headache. This place is incredibly loud, I just waited an hour just to get seated for breakfast. And the guy I was stupid enough to take home, the one I thought actually liked me, he bailed while I was sleeping. This coffee,” He gestured to his mug. “Is literally the only thing about today that doesn’t fucking suck.” Castiel knew he was being dramatic, but he didn’t really care. Gabe regarded him carefully for a moment before speaking.

“I’m sorry Cas. Really, I am. I never meant to drag you into something that would make you unhappy. I honestly thought I was doing you a favour. You don’t exactly have much of a social life.”

“I know, but I don’t exactly want much of one either. You know I don’t like being around people.”

“Yeah but I just thought…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“It’s fine Gabriel. Really. I’m fine,” Castiel lied. He just wanted this conversation to be over.

“Was he at least worth it?” Gabe asked with a smirk. Castiel tensed.

“I’m not having this conversation over breakfast. Actually, I’m not having this conversation at all. That seems to be all anyone wants to talk to me about today.”

“Who’s everyone? I don’t see anyone else here?” Gabe drank half his mug of coffee in one gulp as their server made her rounds with the pot, welcoming a refill gratefully.

“Ugh Charlie. This girl who latched on to me last night. Perky little redhead. Her friend is the one who introduced me to…the guy I met.” Cas didn’t see any point in using his name. Gabe would never meet him anyway. “She’s been pestering me with text messages since I got up.” Gabe smiled.

“Well would you look at that. Cas made a friend all by himself.” Castiel ignored him and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had another message from Charlie.

_Bummer dude. Why don’t you let me take you out for coffee this afternoon and you can tell me all about it._

_Yeah sure,_ _sounds great._

Castiel ignored his phone for the rest of the meal. He was content to focus his attention on his food, and Gabe’s apology left him feeling certain that he wouldn’t be dragged out to any night clubs any time soon.

 

Gabe trudged off to his room for a nap as soon as they got back to the apartment. Castiel was tempted to do the same, but he’d promised to meet Charlie. He supposed to social convention was to keep appointments like that. He showered and tugged on clean clothes; a pair of comfortable dark jeans, a soft grey tee-shirt and his favourite sweater. He got it in a second-hand shop several years ago. The fabric was thick and warm, and the tag said it was real wool. It was warm and cozy and he felt like he needed the comfort today. Castiel lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The fingers of one hand tangled in his dark hair, messing it up further, and he thought back to other hands grabbing handfuls of that same hair the night before. His mind was flooded with images of their tryst. Dean’s hands finding all the most sensitive parts of his body. Dean’s mouth kissing his with passion. Dean’s tongue dragging filthy noises from Castiel’s lips. Dean’s cock, pounding in to him as he screamed out Dean’s name. Dean, tucked up next to him as he fell asleep. Castiel shook off the reverie and rolled over to push himself off the bed. He stubbed his toe on the nightstand as he did, and he was so focused on swearing loudly at the pain that he didn’t notice the carefully folded slip of paper tumble off the surface and under his bed.

 

Charlie was already waiting at a table near the window when Castiel walked in to the bakery-café on 7th street. She’d chosen the place, stating that they had the absolute best cherry Danishes. She jumped up from the table when she saw him, throwing her slender arms around his neck in an enthusiastic hug.

“What’s up, bitch?” Charlie chirped cheerfully as she gave his shoulder a playful shove.

“Excuse me?” Castiel shot her a questioning glance.

“Nevermind” Charlie shook her head as they walked to the counter. Castiel ordered a plain coffee and added his sugar and his milk before following Charlie back to the table in the window. “So, spill. What happened after Pam and I left?” Charlie pushed half of her pastry across the table at him as she spoke. He looked at it warily.

“We went to a diner, ate some pancakes, he drove me home, he spent the night. And when I woke up he was gone. It’s not much of a story.” Charlie frowned.

“That doesn’t seem right. I mean I never met the guy before last night, but Pam knows him pretty well. She seemed to think you guys were a pretty great match.”

“Yeah well, guess she was wrong. There’s a reason I don’t like meeting people in bars like that. It’s not worth it.”

“Ouch. Sorry buddy. At least you got me out of the deal.” She reached a hand across the table to rest on Castiel’s. He barely managed to resist the urge to pull his hand away. Castiel scoffed.

“I hate to tell you this but you got the short straw there. I’m kind of a shit friend.”

“I find that kind of hard to believe. I bet you’re an awesome friend. You just need someone to stick with you a while. I nominate me.” Charlie pulled out her phone and started typing something out on the keypad.

“What are you doing?” he asked around a bite of Danish. Charlie was right, they were amazing.

“Sending Pam a message. She’s not wrong often. Not to schadenfreude all over your terrible weekend but I’m not passing up an opportunity to give her an ‘I told you so.’ Plus I know for a fact she’ll rip him a new one for stringing my new bestie along.” Castiel rolled his eyes.

“That’s not necessary. My people skills may be a little rusty but I think I can handle a little rejection.” He smiled weakly.

“Right well whatever. I already sent the message to Pam so it’s too late. He’s getting an earful, and you are going to sit right here and tell me all about you.” She wrapped both hands around her coffee mug as if to absorb its warmth, and smiled at Castiel with kindness in her eyes. But there was also an edge to her voice that said she would not be taking no for an answer.

“I’m really not that interesting,” Castiel protested.

“Bullshit,” Charlie laughed as she finished her coffee. “I’m getting another. You have until I get back to keep up this charade, and then we’re going to start working on your self esteem. You’re a cutie, and I’m not gonna stand by and let you trash talk yourself like this.” Castiel watched her walk off toward the counter. He really didn’t know what to do with all of this. Charlie didn’t know what she was talking about. He really wasn’t that interesting. Castiel’s life was boring and pedestrian. He didn’t get out much, didn’t have a lot of interesting stories to tell. He didn’t have any hobbies outside of reading. He’d much have a quiet night at home than go out to a bar. Charlie was going to be sorely disappointed. She returned a moment later with a pair of coffee cups and a plate bearing a cupcake balanced on top of each. Castiel took the fresh coffee gratefully as she sank back in to her seat.

“You looked like you could use another. And also love in the form of baked goods. Now start talking.” Castiel peeled the wrapper off the cupcake and took a bite as an excuse to stall. The chocolate cupcake was filled with marshmallow fluff and there were little bits of graham cracker on the vanilla frosting. It was divine.

“I’m a junior accountant at Henning, Foster and Lambert. I hate my office but I love my work. I share an apartment with my brother Gabriel. I really don’t have anything exciting in my life.” Charlie glared at him.

“Stop it. I don’t care where you work. That’s not important. What makes you smile? What’s your favourite movie? What’s the last book you read? If you could drop everything and take a trip anywhere in the world, just go right now, where would you go? Do you like roller coasters? What did you dress up as for Halloween last year? Get with the program, Cas. These are the things that make you interesting.” Castiel smiled in spite of himself. Charlie’s warm demeanour made him feel at ease. He barely knew her, but Charlie’s only focus seemed to be Castiel. He decided he liked her.

“That’s a lot of questions.” He replied. Cas set his cupcake down and reclined into his chair a little.

“Take ‘em one at a time. I’ve got nowhere else to be.” Charlie nodded at him, a nudge to go on. Her eyes were bright, her hands steady on her cup.

“Ok well um…I like the Star Wars movies, but only original trilogy. The prequels were an atrocity. I’d prefer to pretend they never happened. I can watch zombie movies any time. I never get tired of it. And ooh, The Fifth Element. It’s incredibly campy but Gary Oldman is an amazing villain. That’s probably my all time favourite. I own it on VHS, DVD and Blu-Ray, even though I don’t own a VHS player anymore.”  
            “Nobody does. That’s like owning a Mac Classic or a Coleco-Vision or an 8-track player.” Charlie dug in to her own cupcake, which was adorned with a mountain of pink frosting and a maraschino cherry. “Mmmm angel food cake. My favourite,” she murmured. “Keep talking.”

“Um…Uh…Books. Right. Books. The last book I read was called 1Q84. It’s kinda hard to describe. Haruki Murakami originally wrote it in the ‘80s, I think but it just got translated to English a few years ago. Its about this writer, and he meets this weird girl who’s dad is the leader of this religious sect…I actually really enjoyed it. You should read it.”

“Maybe I will.”

“You can borrow my copy.” He licked an errant stripe of frosting off his finger and smiled at Charlie. This visit was turning out to be surprisingly bearable.

 

As the afternoon dragged on, Castiel was forced to talk about himself much more than he was usually comfortable with. He told Charlie how he’d always wanted to take a road trip to visit the Grand Canyon. He’d always been fascinated by the enormity of it. He vaguely understood the geological events that had to have occurred for it to form but it still felt like something he’d need to see with his own two eyes to believe. He wanted to ride a burro down into the canyon, he wanted to see the desert at sunrise. But he didn’t own a car and he didn’t have a driver’s licence. It was unlikely to happen any time soon. He had to confess that he’d never actually ridden a roller coaster. There were none anywhere near here and his family hadn’t taken vacations like that when he was little.

“Mom didn’t have much money,” he explained. “We went camping a few times. Gabe liked it better than I did. S’mores actually. He didn’t like camping, he just liked the food that went along with it.”

“So he’d probably be a big fan of that cupcake then.” Charlie pointed out when Castiel went quiet.

“Yeah actually. Remind me to take one home for him. But now it’s your turn. I’ve been talking since we got here. You haven’t told me anything about yourself.”

“Fair is fair,” Charlie acknowledged, and as she began to talk at length about her own life, Cas started to feel like this ‘meeting new people’ thing wasn’t as bad as he’d chalked it up to be.

At the same time Cas and Charlie were getting to know each other over coffee and cupcakes, Dean was still stuck at the garage. The three hours of sleep he’d managed to snag before he got called in were not enough to sustain his patience through a Saturday of soccer moms and busy businesspeople in a rush to get their oil changed and their tires rotated and their fluids topped up. It was his least favourite part of the job. Weekdays were usually much more interesting. It was one of the reasons he was grateful that he usually didn’t work Saturdays. But the overtime would make up for the inconvenience and he had to admit it would have been a dick move to bail on Bobby on a day like this. Bobby had done him plenty of favours over the years. He’d given Dean a job right out of high school so he could support himself and Sam when John had taken off, and he’d looked after the brothers plenty of times when John had gone on a bender and disappeared for several days. And Bobby would never admit it, but Dean was pretty sure he thought of the Winchester boys as the sons he never had. So of course he was going to show up for work when Bobby called in a favour. In Dean’s mind there was no limit to the number of favours that man was entitled to.

At five when the shop closed, Dean extricated himself from the service area as fast as his legs could carry him. He needed another shower, and food, He drove home by way of his favourite burger place and picked up a bacon cheeseburger with extra everything and at the last minute he pulled his car into the parking lot of a liquor store a block from his apartment. Dean also needed a beer, he decided. By the time he was seated in his living room with a burger in front of him and a beer in his hand he’d almost forgotten why he was in such a shitty mood that morning. He’d showered quickly, taking just long enough to make his muscles forget the strain of eight hours on his feet after a mostly sleepless night and then it was couch, food, beer, and Star Wars. Original Trilogy always made him feel better after a shitty day. He was just about to take the first bite of his burger when his damn phone rang. He answered it on instinct and as soon as he did, he wished he’d ignored it.

“You little shit!” Pam’s voice bellowed at him through the phone. “What the damn hell is wrong with you??”

“Hi Pam,” Dean replied. Right about now he was regretting the ever-loving fuck out of running in to her last night and rekindling their friendship. “How are you?” Dean poured as much sass in to his voice as he could possibly manage.

“Don’t you sass me you little brat. You didn’t tell me that you wouldn’t be seeing Castiel again because you fucking _left while he was still sleeping._ What kind of asshole are you?”

“Hey, gimme a break. I got called in to work. He only got like three hours sleep before my phone went off, I didn’t think he’d appreciate being woken up. And how the hell do you even know? I thought you’d never met the guy before?” Dean was 100% done with this shit. He felt bad enough about the whole ordeal on his own. He didn’t need Pam’s second hand guilt.

“He’s having coffee with Charlie right now. She sent me a text. He is one unhappy boy to hear her tell it. Says you didn’t even leave a note. I vouched for you, Dean Winchester. You make me look bad when you pull crap like this.” Dean could feel her seething through the line. He leaned back against the couch and slapped a hand over his face.

“What? No! I totally left a note. I left it on his nightstand. I just forgot to put my number on it is all. Fuck are you serious, he didn’t get it? No wonder he thinks I’m an asshole.” Dean reached for his beer and drank half of it down in one long pull. He hadn’t thought it possible, but this day was actually getting worse.

“No, he didn’t get the note, and according to Charlie he regrets ever meeting you. You broke the poor kid’s heart.”

“Aw for fuck’s sake. Way to go, Winchester.”

“Did you just refer to yourself in third person, Dean?” Pam’s laugh was shrill and piercing. Dean grimaced.

“Shut up, I’m tired. Hey wait, you said Charlie’s hanging out with him right now, but they just met last night too, right? So she must have gotten his number? Do you think you could do me a favour? Can you get it for me?” Dean’s face lit up at the thought.

“I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. Charlie is not a big fan of yours right now, for what I hope are obvious reasons. She says Castiel is her new bestie and she is a little bit protective of the strays she takes in. I’m not sure she’s going to want to be your go-between.”

“At least try? Please? For me?”

“I’ll see what Charlie says. Bye, asshole.” And then Pam hung up. Dean was torn between feeling like utter garbage because Cas hadn’t even seen his note and the poor guy had spent _all day_ thinking Dean just used him for sex (incredible mind-blowing sex, at least, but he wasn’t under the impression that it fixed anything) and then bailed, and elated at the prospect that his mistake might be fixable. He’d never been so grateful for Pam’s expansive social network and her inability to keep her nose out of other people’s business. If she hadn’t felt entitled to chew him out for his perceived dickishness, Dean wouldn’t be getting this chance. He turned back to the burger slowly cooling on his coffee table and dared to hope that he might get some good news.

Three beers later, A New Hope was ending and he was just about to put in Empire Strikes Back when he got another text message.

_Sorry Dean. Charlie won’t give me Cas’s number. She says she’ll give him yours, but it’s up to him if he’s going to call you. Better than nothing, right?_

He didn’t even have a chance to reply before she sent another.

_Also she says you’re a stupid jerk and if he does decide to call, you’d better be good to him. She has what she calls 1337 5ki11z, and she’ll reset your life on hard mode if you hurt her BFF. I don’t know what any of that means._

After his coffee with Charlie, Cas walked home the long way. The early evening air was cold but it was refreshing, and the solitude was nice. He’d spent a lot of time around people in the past 24 hours. Cas needed his alone time. The cupcake he’d brought along for Gabriel was tucked into a tidy pink box with a handle and he held it gingerly as he made the twenty minute trek back to his apartment. He wondered if Gabriel would be home. He hadn’t slept any more than Cas had last night. Possibly less even, but that wouldn’t necessarily stop him from going out to another bar. At least he wouldn’t be dragging Cas along this time. He let himself dawdle as he peered in shop windows and watched the people walking by. Everyone was always in such a hurry. People bustled along with their heads down and their attention on their destinations. They talked on the phone as they walked and they multitasked and they missed everything that was happening right in front of them. Cas preferred to slow down and take it all in. He noticed the architecture of the buildings around him. He appreciated the beauty of the trees planted at intervals along the street even if they were stark and bare-limbed in the winter. They’d be lush again come spring. They were full of promise. He let the cool air fill his lungs as he drew a deep cleansing breath. Home was around the next corner. Home and comfort. Castiel’s safe place. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he turned on to his street. He shifted the cupcake box to the other hand and fished it out of his pocket to read the text message from Charlie, now saved under a name in his contacts.

_So I just talked to Pam. Apparently Dean says he wrote you a note before he left. Claims he got called in to work and didn’t want to wake you. Can you believe that guy?_

Castiel read the message three times before he replied. It sounded like a believable story, but he didn’t see any note in his room this morning, or this afternoon before he went out to coffee with Charlie either.

 _Is that so? I didn’t get a note._ Castiel typed his note with a pang of sadness.

_Well anyway, she wanted me to pass your number along so Dean could call you, but I said no way. I told her, you give me Dean’s number, and I’ll give it to Castiel, and HE can decide. I’m sending the contact now. If you even want it._

Castiel saved the contact to his phone and stared at it for a moment as he reached his building’s front door. His thumb hovered over the ‘send message’ button for a moment, then he thought better of it. Castiel wasn’t sure he could handle rejection again, not this soon.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel loved Thursdays. Loved them. Mondays were awful both for the reasons everyone else in the 9-5 world would give you, and for a host of his own reasons. Monday mornings brought the most boring of all meetings. His boss always brought in coffee, but it was cheap swill and he’d rather do without. The only redeeming element was the donuts. Castiel wasn’t even a big fan of donuts, but it was a small sugary bright spot in an otherwise garbage day. The meeting took up at least two hours every Monday morning, and it was a lot of his boss talking and everyone else pretending to listen. Honestly, they could have accomplished the same thing with a group email, and then Castiel and his entire department would have another 2 hours in which to get actual work done. Tuesdays weren’t much better. Everyone else seemed to be under the impression that Tuesdays were good by merit of not being Monday, but that was a horrible misconception. Tuesdays _pretended_ not to be like Mondays, but they really were. Tuesdays were still early enough in the week that the weekend was nowhere in sight. And in Castiel’s world they were also the day when the invariably large workload from the branch offices he was responsible for was delivered by courier. He usually spent half the morning just sorting out the work and determining which was most time-sensitive. Most of Tuesday was a write-off. Wednesdays were the inevitable hump-day; not as bad as Monday or Tuesday, but still quite far from the weekend. Fridays had their obvious charm, but nobody needs to be told why Fridays are good. Thursdays though. Thursday mornings Castiel always woke up in a good mood because he knew the weekend was close but there was still plenty of time to get things done. Thursdays were full of promise. Thursdays were Castiel’s favourite.

            On this particular Thursday Castiel woke with the same sense of promise, although it was still tinged with a sour note. He’d been in a mood all week. He’d made a cursory search of his room after arriving home on Sunday but hadn’t found anything Castiel had been cynical from the moment he got the message from Charlie, but he’d still hoped he’d be able to find Dean’s note. No such luck. That’s what happens when you get your hopes up, he reminded himself. You get disappointed.

            Castiel’s alarm went off at 6 am like it did every weekday. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before reaching over to turn it off. His sleepy limbs fumbled and in his haze, he knocked his cell phone off the nightstand and it bounced under his bed. He cursed under his breath, muttering as he swung his bare legs out of the cocoon of blankets and on to the carpet. Castiel flattened to his belly as he reached an arm under the bed and fished around for the phone. His hand fell on three abandoned socks (ew), a shoebox full of porn that Gabe gave him a few months ago, and a scrap of paper, before he finally found his phone. He pulled all the objects out from under the bed and sat cross-legged on the floor. The socks went in to the hamper. Two of them were a pair, at least. Castiel lifted the lid off the shoebox and thumbed through the contents. There were a couple of DVDs and a stack of magazines. He’d never bothered to make use of any of them; the box had been relegated to under the bed within minutes of his receiving it. He shoved it back under with an idle thought that he might have to revisit it later.

            He was just about to toss the scrap of paper in the wastebasket; it was probably a receipt or something. Castiel was usually rather tidy but it’s possible he dropped a ticket stub or a grocery receipt. Only, his curiosity got the better of him. He stood up and sat on the bed, placing his phone back on the nightstand and dragged the fingers of his left hand through the messy mop of dark hair atop his head. The paper was, in fact, a receipt, although it wasn’t Castiel’s receipt. It was from a garage on Herald Street, and Castiel didn’t have a car so he definitely wouldn’t have spent any money at a garage. On the back, however, there was a message. His breath caught. Dean’s note?

 _Thanks for a great night. Got called in to work. See you soon. Dean_.

            Castiel read the note three more times before tucking it under his phone. So Dean hadn’t just ducked out while he was sleeping. It wasn’t rejection. But he’d spent the past four days brooding over the perceived slight, and Castiel wasn’t sure he was ready to let it go quite yet.

 

            Dean liked working weekdays. Mondays usually brought interesting repairs. There was always something that happened over the weekend that someone limped or towed in that had his brain working for a solution. _It’s making this weird chunka-chunka-chunka noise. The radio turns on but it won’t turn over, andI know there’s gas in it! It died on the site of road for no reason!_ Dean loved figuring these ones out. Tuesdays and Wednesdays were usually when Bobby scheduled brake-changes and routine maintenance like that. Thursdays were pretty boring though, if Dean was honest. There’s nothing special about a Thursday. It’s not the day with the most interesting work, it’s not Friday (Dean _Loved_ Fridays), and its not the weekend. Thursdays just _were._ This Thursday was no different.

            Dean got to work a few minutes early so he could have a second cup of coffee before he started for the day. Bobby was already at the front desk when he walked in. His ever-present trucker hat veiled his lined face in shadow as he looked up and smiled at Dean over his coffee.

            “Mornin’ Bobby,” Dean grinned as the door swung shut behind him.

            “Dean,” Bobby nodded, sipping his coffee. Bobby was always stoic and taciturn. It was rare for him to express emotions in any outward way, but Dean had learned to read him fairly well over the years. It was in the eyes more than anything. Bobby’s eyes were usually hard-edged; not cold, but commanding and brooking no nonsense. But when Bobby smiled, they warmed, and it was all the best parts of his childhood made manifest. “Got a Buick coming in this morning that needs brakes and a muffler and sparks. Think you can get it all done before 5?”

 

            By lunch, Castiel had managed to tackle a significant portion of the work on his desk. Everything he had due for the end of business was complete and emailed to his supervisor, and he’d made a sizeable dent in the end of quarter reports he had to finish before next Friday. Thursdays were always so productive. He left his desk at quarter to twelve and waved to the receptionist as he made his way to the elevator. Castiel usually ate in the lunch room, but he’d made plans to meet Charlie for lunch. He made it to the restaurant they’d agreed on in only a few minutes’ walk; he’d picked it specifically for proximity to his office. Castiel rarely took his full hour for lunch and even when he left the office to eat he liked to get back a bit sooner than expected. Punctuality was important.

            Charlie hadn’t arrived by the time he reached the restaurant, so he picked a table near the door. She’d see him as soon as she arrived. He draped his trench-coat over the back of his chair and straightened his tie before glancing briefly at the menu. Cas slipped his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He knew how many minutes would have passed since he left his desk but it was a nervous habit he’d never managed to break. Just as he was setting it down, he received a text message from Charlie.

            _Running a few minutes late. Order me a turkey club? I’ll be there in ten._

            He tapped out a quick reply and flagged the waiter down. Once he walked away with Castiel and Charlie’s orders on his notepad, Cas picked up his phone again and quickly flipped through his emails. There was never anything interesting, just advertisements from various companies that had his email somehow, but it gave him something to do to pass the time until Charlie arrived. The waiter returned with water and Castiel’s herbal tea at almost the exact minute Charlie walked in.

            “Sorry I’m late Cas. One of the new execs cornered me in the elevator and I had to try to dumb down the concept of cloud networking for someone who knows nothing at all about computers. It took way longer than I’d have liked.”

            “No worries,” he assured her. Charlie motioned for him to stand, insisting on a hug, and he grudgingly obliged.

            “So what’s the haps? Anything exciting happening in the world of accounting?” Charlie slid in to her seat gracefully and dropped her messenger bag on the floor beside her feet. She unzipped her bright green hoodie to reveal a t-shirt with some logo he didn’t recognize, overlaid with Japanese writing. “You like?” she asked when she noticed him looking. “They gave these out with preorders of the Japanese release of Twilight Princess. Found it on e-bay.” Castiel nodded like he understood a single word of what she just said.

            “I found Dean’s note this morning,” he offered instead. “It must have fallen under my bed.” Castiel couldn’t help the little smile that crept on to his lips.

            “Seriously? So he wasn’t full of shit?” Charlie’s incredulity carried her voice over the din of the restaurant. At least three other patrons turned to shoot her a dirty look. “So did you call him? Are you going to?” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper, her tone conspiratorial and excited.

            “I haven’t, no. I don’t know what I’m going to say! I mean I want to, but this is uncharted territory.” Castiel knew he was blushing.

            “Send him a text. Tell him you found his note, and leave it at that. Put the ball back in his court He wanted Pam to get your number for him, right? Obviously he’s interested. He’s the one who bailed without leaving his number, let him pursue you.”

            “I don’t know Charlie. Isn’t that a little impersonal?” Cas sighed.

            “Yes. It is. And so is picking a guy up at a bar and then leaving while he’s sleeping. You’re a friggin catch. Make him work for it!”

            “Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if he…how can I be sure that….do you think he will…” Charlie cut off his panicking with a finger pressed to his lips. His eyes widened in shock.

            “You need to stop thinking of the worst case scenario. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to text him just like I said. He will either _jump_ at the chance to talk to you again, or he will brush it off. But either way, you will know for sure. I don’t think he’s going to bail on you though. I mean, the guy withstood a verbal gutting from Pam and still had the intestinal fortitude to ask her to get your number at the end. He’s at least a little invested. And he DID leave you that note, even if he was dumb enough to forget to leave his number. I think he’s buying what you’re selling, and I think he’s buying at whatever price you set. Do it. Text him right now. If he gets back to you while we’re still having lunch I can play Cyrano for you. Pick up your phone and text him right now!”

            “If I do it will you stop badgering me?” he replied with a look of consternation on his face. He hoped their food would show up soon and save him from this conversation. Charlie beamed a megawatt grin at him across the table and reached teasingly for his phone.

            “If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.” Charlie winked at him. Castiel picked up his phone with resignation and scrolled through the contacts until he found Dean’s number and typed the message just as Charlie suggested.

_I found your note this morning._

            He watched the screen as it blinked ‘sending, sending, sending’ and he was sure he imagined the tension leaving his body as it flashed ‘message sent’. He tucked his phone away, not wanting to be distracted by the temptation to check for a reply. It was a moot point. The waiter brought their lunches a few minutes later as Charlie chattered on about the suits in her office and how annoying it was to work with people who knew so little about computers, but all Castiel could think about was Dean, and his message, and he found himself pulling his phone out every couple of minutes. Just to check the time, he told himself. Just to make sure he was back to the office on time.

 

 

            Dean wiped the sweat that had collected on his brow with the back of his hand. His left was at least mostly clean. It only left a small trace of grease on his face. The Buick had been more of a challenge than he’d anticipated but by noon he felt like he’d got a handle on it. The afternoon would be a push. Still, he was sure he could get the whole thing done in time for the customer to pick it up at the end of business. Dean wiped his hands on a rag tucked in his pocket as his belly rumbled and reminded him that it was time to find a brief respite. He grabbed his lunch pail out of the office and sat on the picnic bench out back of the garage. Dean was half way through his ham and cheese sandwich before he got bored enough to check his phone. He wasn’t expecting anything, since he knew Sam was in classes, but he checked his messages with an obsessive dedication. It was a surprise to see he had a new text. He didn’t recognize the number.

_I found your note this morning._

            There was no name, and it had only been sent about five minutes before. Dean nearly choked on his sandwich. Castiel. Really? Could he possibly be this lucky?

_Cas? Is this Castiel?_

            He took another bite of his sandwich and stared at the screen with apprehension and anxiety that reminded him of high school. He’d asked Lisa Braeden to prom and she’d said ‘Let me think about it,” and kept him hanging for days before she finally turned him down. Those three days had felt like an eternity. He’d stressed about it every waking moment. Dean was right back in that memory now. His foot tapped nervously, almost of its own accord. Dean fell into a stupid rhythm of bite sandwich, check phone, sip coffee, check phone, bite sandwich, check phone, check to make sure phone has reception, check messages again…Dean knew he was being stupid. That didn’t mean he had it in him to stop acting like a love-struck teenager, though.

_Why? Did you leave notes on more than one nightstand this weekend?_

            Be cool, Winchester, he chided himself. Dean felt a smile creep across his face. Castiel was responding, and he didn’t tell him to go fuck himself, so that’s a mark in the win column.

_Nope, just the one. I just didn’t think I was going to hear from you._

            Dean finished his sandwich with a smile plastered across his freckled mug. Maybe Thursdays weren’t so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Millions of thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this fluffy silliness. I promise you it's going somewhere. <3

            “Oh just give me the phone. You’re hopeless.” Charlie reached across the table with outstretched fingers. Cas pulled his phone out of her grasp at the last second.

            “No! You’re already telling me what to write, at least I should be typing the words myself. It’s the principle of the thing.” He gave a smug sniff as he read Dean’s message again. Charlie hadn’t steered him wrong yet, but he preferred to have final say on the words that would be representing him to Dean.

            “Fine, fine. What’s it say? I don’t have all day.” She slumped back in her seat and poked at the last of her fries with an idle finger.

            “He says he wasn’t sure he’d hear from me.” Charlie laughed.

            “Well what did he think was going to happen? Geez, if a girl pulled that crap with me…nevermind. That’s not important. Tell him….tell him that next time he’d better not leave while you’re sleeping, if he knows what’s good for him.” Castiel levelled a stare at her. “You _do_ want there to be a next time, right?”  
            “Don’t ask stupid questions.” Castiel said flatly. “That doesn’t sound like me though. I am not flirtatious. I am awkward and ridiculous and I blurt out stupid things when I’m nervous.”

            “You can’t be awkward _and_ flirtatious?”

            “In my experience, no. They’re mutually exclusive.”

            “Oh come on, you can’t be that bad. You managed to take him home in the first place. You must have been at least a little clever.”

            “When we left the bar, I told him how I’d get away with murder if I ever decided to kill someone. I don’t exactly have a filter when I’m nervous. It’s less than endearing.”

            “Fine,” Charlie sighed. “We dial back the flirtatiousness. But maybe try to talk less about dead bodies next time you see him. That kind of thing is really more appropriate for like, the fifth date.” She reached for his phone again. “Gimme.”

            “No, Charlie. My phone, my thumbs.” He stared at the screen for a moment and screwed up his face. “I’m just going to tell him I wasn’t sure I was going to _let_ him hear from me.” Charlie beamed.

            “My little protégé is growing up! That’s perfect. Coy, a little mysterious. But it lets him know he almost blew it. Good. Send that. Hey, I gotta get back to the office.   If you need help with the flirting later, text me, ok? I’ve got a raid at seven but I can make time.” She slapped a few bills down on the table. “I got your lunch, loverboy. Text me later?” She was up and out the door before he had a chance to protest, or to ask what the hell raid she was talking about. Castiel had a hard time not running the numbers in his head. If they were keeping score, he was two lunches, three drinks, a coffee and a cupcake in Charlie’s debt already and he hadn’t even known her a week. He didn’t like owing people.

_I wasn’t sure either, to be honest. I didn’t have any reason to believe you wanted to hear from me until today._

            Castiel pocketed his phone as he settled the trench-coat back across his shoulders. It wasn’t a warm coat but he liked it. It was comfortable, familiar. There was still enough time to get back to his cubicle before his lunch hour was up, so after checking to make sure the cash Charlie left would cover a fair tip, he walked briskly out in to the chill air and back towards the office.

            He was elbow deep in expense reports when his phone vibrated across the desk. Castiel nearly leapt out of his seat, though the noise wasn’t exactly loud. He had a tendency to get wrapped up in numbers and forget the rest of the world existed. Predictably, it was a message from Dean.

_Why wouldn’t I want to hear from you? If I remember correctly, you gave me plenty of reasons on Saturday. I kinda hoped that went both ways._

            Castiel’s mind immediately flashed back to the weekend. His face flushed at the memory of heat and skin. He took a deep, calming breath and glanced back to the pile of reports in front of him. He should be working. He shouldn’t be flirting with his one-night stand. Realistically, he shouldn’t be talking to Dean at all. What happened between them was not the keystone of a functional relationship, and Castiel’s track record for relationships that _didn’t_ start with half-drunk fumbling was bad enough to leave him gun-shy.

_I concede, it was fun. Could have been more fun if you stuck around._

            Castiel hit send before he could talk himself into deleting the message and typing something tamer. If he was going to start making bad decisions, he might as well make them terrible ones.

 

 

            Dean stared at the message on his screen for a solid minute before tucking it back in to his coveralls, then pulled it back out and read it again. Castiel’s response suggested plenty, but from the read Dean had on him from the other night, he knew he had to tread carefully. Cas was a weird guy; anxious, fragile maybe, and definitely nervous. Dean knew he had to pick his words precisely. It had been a long time since Dean had been in a legitimate relationship. Everything in the past few years had been extended fuck-buddies or trysts with his left hand. If he wanted this thing with Cas to last longer than Saturday night’s encounter, he’d have to work for it. That much was sure. So although his first instinct was to read _everything_ in to Cas’s suggestive text, his rational mind told him he needed to slow the fuck down if he didn’t want to scare him off.

_Well if you ever let me back into your bed, I promise I’ll wake you up before I go anywhere. Are you free tonight? Could I call you, maybe?_

            Dean was filled with a deep sense of gratitude that the weekday was almost over. He knew his productivity was completely ruined by his fixation on Cas’s text messages, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

            Cas suppressed a laugh as he read Dean’s latest message. Of course he wanted Dean to call him. He stifled the desire to concede completely. Charlie would tell him to maintain a sense of mystery, probably. She’d tell him not to give too much ground until he knew where he stood, and to keep Dean on his toes, and a million other things she probably read in a magazine somewhere. What Castiel really wanted to say was ‘Yes, call me. I want to hear your voice. Call me on the phone and take me out to dinner and get in to my damn life and never leave.” But what he actually wrote was

_I’d like that._

            Thankfully, Gabriel was working late, so Cas had the apartment to himself that Thursday. This was fortunate, because he found himself anxiously pacing across the floor from the time he finished dinner. Dean didn’t exactly specify what time he’d call, but Cas had stated he was free any time after six, so the moment the hands of the clock spread themselves vertically and marked the hour, he felt a sense of dread and doom and apprehension creep through his body and settle in his limbs. Castiel felt sick to his stomach. He always did when he got worked up over something like this. He checked the time on his phone roughly every thirty seconds, commending himself on waiting that long, and paced a circle on the wood floor of his apartment so many times he was sure he’d worked a furrow in the floorboards before the phone rang. The sound nearly made him jump.

            “Hello?” he murmured into the receiver. The display showed Dean’s name but he still hesitated.

            “Hey Cas,” the somewhat familiar voice crooned across the line. “How’s it going?” If Dean shared any of his apprehension, it didn’t sound out in his voice.

            “It’s good. I like Thursdays,” Castiel found himself saying. “I’m glad you called.”

            “Oh yeah? I’m glad you messaged me. I was pretty sure I’d fucked the whole thing up. Listen, I’m really sorry about that, by the way.” Cas hesitated as the line went silent for a moment. He wanted to tell Dean how dejected he’d felt when he’d woken up alone. He wanted to berate him for not waking Castiel up before he’d left for work or not leaving his note somewhere it would be sure to be seen, or any number of other things. He wanted to lay in to him for leaving at all, for not refusing the overtime and staying in bed and waking Castiel up with gentle kisses and wiling the morning away wrapped in eachother’s arms. Instead, he blushed at the memory and huffed a sigh before muttering in to the phone.

            “It’s fine. You’re calling now.”

            “So how’s work? You didn’t actually tell me what you do?” Dean’s voice was jovial, almost light. Castiel imagined him stricken with the impression that he’d offended Castiel by leaving in the night, and then buoyed with the knowledge that Castiel wasn’t angry. His ego inflated with the imagined power, but he shook it off. Dean was too good for that. Dean wasn’t maintained by Castiel’s image of him.

            “Oh. Yeah, I’m an accountant. A Junior accountant, technically. Today was pretty good. I got a lot done, and I had lunch with Charlie at this café near the office.”

            “An accountant eh? So you’re good looking _and_ clever. Sounds like I’ve got my hands full.” Castiel blushed and went silent. He’d never been good at taking compliments.

            “I don’t know if I’d say clever. Numbers just make sense to me. They always have. The results are predictable. You know what the rules are and as long as you are applying the right rules, numbers will always do what they’re supposed to. My brain just kinda works that way, and the numbers make sense.”

            “I get that. I feel the same way about cars. Older ones at least. The new ones with their computers and electronic parts, they’re a bit more unpredictable, but older models make sense. They speak to me.” Dean’s voice sounded like he was smiling. It was a good sound. Cas found it pleasantly calming.

            “You really do love cars.”

            “Yeah, they’re a passion. What can I say? I’m a passionate guy. But you knew that already.” Dean laughed softly at his own joke.

            “I yeah…Uh…I have some memories of…that.” Cas managed to fumble out the basic acknowledgement. Flirting was _not_ in his skillset. He knew he should try to keep up with the banter. He should shoot back some witty retort or make a double entendre or something outright sexual. But he couldn’t make his brain work out how to be clever. Dean seemed to sense the tension on the other end of the line.

            “Are you busy this weekend?” Dean asked, cutting through the silence Cas left on the line. “I was thinking we could go out. Like, in the daytime. Somewhere that isn’t your bedroom?”

            “I don’t have anything planned on Saturday,” Cas offered. It had been mere seconds since Dean had suggested it, and he was already excited at the prospect. “What did you have in mind?”

            “You just be ready at ten. I’ll pick you up.” Cas murmured a goodbye into the phone, and as soon as the line went dead, he dialled Charlie’s number. He’d known the girl all of five days and he knew it was weird that he felt so connected to her already, but he couldn’t help it. Charlie had forced her friendship on him. Once he had it, he realized it was exactly the kind of force he needed in his life. She was good for him.

            “Dean asked me out on a date.” He blurted out as soon as she answered the phone. “On Saturday. In the daytime.”

            “No way! Seriously?? Hang on a sec,” Charlie’s end of the call muffled briefly, and he could tell she was moving somewhere. “Sorry. I still had my headset on. Raid’s over but I’ve been kicking around farming gold.”

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But yes. Seriously. An actual date.”

            “Where’s he taking you?” Charlie asked enthusiastically. “What time? What are you going to wear?”

            “Woah. Slow down. One question at a time, Charlie.”

            “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I’m just so excited!! You two are just so cute together! I mean, for a couple of boys. Not really my thing, but hey, cute is cute. Ok. So what’s the plan?”

            “He just said he’d pick me up at ten.” Castiel sighed. “I don’t know what the plan is.”

            “Ooh a surprise date. Well that could be interesting. Did he give you any hints?”

            “He didn’t say anything. I think he’s actually trying to redeem himself a little, still. But I have no idea what to expect.”

            “Well. You’ll just have to be ready for anything, won’t you?” Castiel held the phone away from his ear for a moment as Charlie squealed with delight.

            “Could you stop doing that?” he grumbled.

            “Sorry! Why aren’t you as excited as I am? It’s your date?”

            “I’m not a big fan of spontaneous,” Cas sighed as he slumped down on to the couch. He’d been anxiously pacing around the room since his conversation with Dean, he realized.

            “Spontaneous doesn’t have to be bad,” Charlie assured him. “Maybe he’ll take you somewhere really fun. It could be the best date ever!”

            “Maybe he’ll take me somewhere really awful. What if he takes me to a karaoke place and I have to sing in front of people? What if he tries to take me roller skating and I fall on my face and then he’s embarrassed to be seen with me? What if we have nothing to talk about? What if we—“ Charlie cut him off.

            “Cas! Stop freaking out, ok? I am almost entirely certain there are no karaoke places open at ten am on a Saturday. And if you fell down roller skating, I bet he’d pick you up and it would be just fine. And you will have _plenty_ to talk about, because you are interesting and _he is interested in you_. Chill, young padawan. You will become the dating master yet.”

            “Ugh. I can’t argue with Star Wars quotes. But I’ll have you know I’m still freaking out. I’m just going to do it quietly.”

            “Text me your address.”

            “What? Why?”

            “I am going to stop at that bakery and bring you a cupcake, and we are going to play dress up, and I’m going to impart to you my infinite knowledge on the subject of flirting. With some minor adaptations of course, because all my field research is with the female of the species, but I imagine there’s at least some of it that’s relevant for dudes. By the time I’m done with you, Dean Winchester will be putty in your hands.”

 

            “What about this one? The colour brings out your eyes.” Charlie held up a bright blue dress shirt covered in some atrocious paisley pattern and Castiel cringed.

            “No…that one’s Gabriel’s. I don’t know why it’s in my closet. It looks like something the star of a 70’s porn would wear. Give me that. I’ll put it back in his room.”

            “Aw but it’s such a nice blue!”

            “I’m attempting to have an actual date with someone I’ve already slept with. I don’t want to look like an adult film star. The answer is no.” Castiel snatched the hanger out of her hand and ducked out in to the hallway to hang it on Gabriel’s door. He still couldn’t figure out how it got in to his room in the first place.

            “Are you going to reject everything I suggest?”

            “As long as you keep suggesting things that make me look stupid, yes.” Castiel levelled a look at Charlie that he hoped conveyed the full extent of his disdain for the practice of ‘playing dress-up.’

            “You are no fun. You are the ruiner of fun,” she sulked, then reached back in to his closet. “What exactly is your idea of something that doesn’t make you look stupid? I need some parameters here.”

            “I don’t know…I have no idea where we’re going so I don’t really have a frame of reference for dress code. If I was going on a normal date I’d probably just wear slacks and a dress shirt.”

            “Too stuffy. It’s a weekend. You should dress down a little. Jeans are more appropriate. Ah. Here we go.” Charlie extricated herself from the closet with a soft grey sweater Castiel had forgotten he owned. “This is what you’re going to wear. Now let’s talk about tomorrow. What’s your general approach when it comes to flirting?” Castiel gave a self-deprecating laugh.

            “Less of an approach, more of a retreat. I flirt by running the fuck away and being somewhere else.” He picked up the sweater and inspected it closely. Castiel couldn’t for the life of him remember why he didn’t wear it more. It was a deep slate grey with a v-neck and if he recalled correctly, it was incredibly comfortable.

            “That’s the opposite of effective. Ok so we’re going to go with the subtle approach then. Start with eye contact. Lets him know he’s got your attention. Don’t stare or anything, but focus. Be an active listener. Smile, and nod when he’s talking.”

            “Charlie, no offense, but this sounds a lot more like job interview etiquette than flirting. I think my energy would be better spent trying not to blurt out anything too embarrassing if that’s the best you have to offer.”

            “That’s not a terrible point. Do try to avoid the murder thing, won’t you? Just try to have fun. I’m sure the entire thing will go wonderfully and you’ll be calling me Saturday night to gush about how amazing it is. Trust me. You’ll be fine.”

 

            Friday dragged by in a way Castiel hadn’t previously known was even possible. His ability to focus was almost entirely non-existent and his desire to do anything about it was completely gone. It was fortunate he’d had such a productive Thursday or he would have had a particularly annoying Monday to look forward to. His state of distraction over the impending date wasn’t improved any by the frequent messages he received from Charlie and Dean both. Castiel tried to keep his mind on his work, really he did, but Excel spreadsheets and ledgers just didn’t hold any appeal on this day. By the time five o’clock rolled around and his co-workers started to file out of the building with excited thoughts of beer and debauchery on their minds, Castiel was just grateful to be leaving. He made his way home quickly and heaved a sigh of relief when he was finally back in the snug warmth of his and Gabriel’s apartment.

            “Cas, buddy! What’s with that look on your face? It’s Friday! You should be ecstatic!” Gabriel practically forced a beer into his hands before he could even divest himself of his trench-coat.

            “It’s been a long week, Gabe. I’m just looking forward to relaxing.”

            “Which you can do with a drink in your hand when you come out to the bar with me tonight. We’re checking out that new place over on Second Street.” Castiel stared flatly at his older brother.

            “No, Gabe. I’m not going out to the bar with you. I have a date tomorrow morning. You’ll just have to pour yourself into a cab tonight.” Gabe nearly choked on his beer. Castiel couldn’t help but notice he was wearing the God-awful blue paisley shirt.

            “A _date_? On a Saturday morning? This isn’t the one you picked up last weekend _at the bar_ is it?” Gabriel chuckled to himself. “Aw, my baby brother is finally learning how to have some fun. Good for you Cas. Good for you.”

            “Shut up Gabe.”

            “Ooh, it is him. The one you’ve been brooding over all week. Well you have fun, or at least what passes for fun in your world. I’ve got dinner and cocktail lined up. Hey, you should let me meet this guy before you head out tomorrow. Gotta make sure he passes the big brother test.”

            “Not that I wouldn’t _love_ to subject him to your charming personality, but he’s picking me up at ten tomorrow. I doubt you’ll even be conscious.”

            “Fine, fine. But you’d better let me meet him soon. I have very high standards for you.” Gabriel finished his own beer in a hurried gulp and grabbed his coat as he headed out the door. Cas breathed a sigh of relief at the quiet. Not for the first time, he pondered getting his own apartment. He loved his brother, really he did. Some times he had to remind himself of that fact, repeating it like a mantra, but he did. He just felt like he’d love Gabriel more if he didn’t see him every day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas go on an unofficial first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I had so much fun writing this chapter. It's fluffier than a storage locker full of tribbles and cheesier than an entire box of Valentines cards and it may or may not draw inspirations from things that have happened to real people. I'll never tell. And it's considerably longer than previous chapters so I hope all you lovely people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

            Dean woke up incredibly early on Saturday morning. The ten am date itself was completely out of his comfort zone but he wanted to plan something more interesting than dinner and a movie. If he was going to break one of the first date rules he might as well break them all. As he brushed his teeth, he pondered whether it still counted as a first date. Last weekend’s escapades were really more along the lines of fourth or fifth if you wanted to follow the ‘rules.’ Dean usually didn’t. But they had shared a meal, and there was conversation. So was it a date, or was it a one night stand with food? It probably didn’t matter much but Dean was fixated. He smiled to himself at the thought of those sparkling blue eyes and decided that this counted as date number one, because if it was the first date then he could justify wiping the whole “I forgot to leave you my number because I’m a total idiot” thing out of his ledger. Yup. First date.

 

            Castiel also woke early on Saturday, but it was less outside the norm for him. He tended to be an early riser. There was something calming about the sunlight creeping through the windows as it rose, the stillness of the world before the bustle of commerce made the city sing out with activity. He often woke early on weekends and just read a book while he drank his coffee. It was peaceful. On this particular Saturday, he was feeling something entirely unlike peace. Castiel was painfully aware at that exact moment of how long it had been since he’d been on anything that qualified as an actual date. It occurred to him that the answer might technically be ‘never.’ All of his sexual encounters and romantic entanglements, he realized, had stemmed from friendships or acquaintances, and no actual dating had ever occurred. His first boyfriend back in high school had just sort of grabbed his hand on the way to class one day. They’d already been friends, so barely anything changed. They studied together before, but after, they studied and kissed. There had been no special excursions or planned events. They hadn’t even gone to any dances. Castiel had been insistent on that. Aside from the lack of acceptance for gay couples among the school administration, Castiel had been entirely unwilling to spend an evening crammed into a gym with a bunch of other sweaty, hormonal teenagers. Even now the thought of it made his skin crawl with anxiety. He pushed the thought away.

            As he stared out the window at the grey morning light, Castiel thought of his short-list of past lovers and realized how unconventional his experiences were. Never before now had he been actively pursued, and he’d certainly never seen fit to chase anyone. Always it had been someone he already knew. Friends, or acquaintances, and then acquaintance became lust and then lust became nothing and he was alone again. He shook the dreary thought away. Didn’t he like it better when he was alone, anyway? Castiel drained the last drops of coffee from his favourite mug and washed it out in the sink. Dean would be here soon. Better to clear his head of such idle thoughts.

 

            Castiel stood outside the front door of his apartment a few minutes before ten. He wore the dark jeans Charlie suggested and the grey sweater he still couldn’t recall why he stopped wearing in the first place over a plain white dress shirt. He looked sharp, he thought, but casual. His ever-present trench-coat hung open and he had a scarf loosely draped around his neck, hands jammed in his pockets as he waited for Dean to arrive. He found it was taking an inordinate amount of effort to calm his nerves as he waited. _9:55. Am I over-dressed? What will Dean be wearing? Should I have just gone with a tee-shirt? 9:56. What has he got planned? Oh god please not roller skating. 9:57. What if he thinks I’m too weird? 9:58. What if I think HE’s too weird???_

            His phone pinged with a text message at 9:59 (not that he was checking the time with feverish intensity or anything).

_Go get ‘em tiger! You’re a fucking catch. I expect a full report when you’re done swooning._

Castiel smiled at Charlie’s message. He really was lucky to have met her. He assured her that he would, in fact, report in when the date was over, and was just pushing the phone back in to his pocket when he heard the approaching rumble of Dean’s Impala. 10:00 am right on the nose. Punctual. That was a good sign. Dean rolled the car to a stop at the curb and cut the engine, bounding out and walking briskly around the front end to meet Cas at the curb. Cas’s concerns about being dressed incorrectly were quickly assuaged. Dean wore jeans as well, clean and dark, well fitting. They looked like they might be new. As he had the previous weekend, he wore a plain black tee-shirt and a button up shirt over it, only this time instead of plaid it was solid burgundy. The leather jacket atop it all had an air of age about it, like he’d been wearing it for years too many to count.

            “Mornin’ Cas! How come you’re waiting outside?” Dean pulled Cas into a quick hug as he spoke, breaking contact almost before Cas could respond to the warm gesture.

            “If I waited inside, there was a chance you’d end up coming inside, and then you might have to meet my brother.” Castiel rolled his eyes to show what he thought of Gabriel’s antics.

            “You keeping me a secret, Cas?” Dean smirked at him as he opened the passenger door, holding it open as Cas slid in as gracefully as he could manage. Dean shut the door gently and retreated around to his own door.

            “My brother is a trial at the best of times. I considered making you come in and meet him as penance for letting me think you ran out last weekend but…” He left the thought unfinished and just flashed Dean a half-smile he hoped was endearing.

            “Well thanks for that.” Dean started the car and pulled away from the curb with practiced ease.

            “He’s still sleeping anyway. I don’t even know what time he got in last night. He’s probably still drunk. So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Castiel’s hands were tight on his knees as the car glided down the pavement. The radio backed their conversation with quiet strains of classic rock, something Castiel didn’t recognize.

            “Nope. It’s a surprise.” Dean flashed him a grin before turning his attention back to traffic.

            “I don’t like surprises.”

            “Yeah I’m sensing that. But I promise. It’s going to be a good surprise.”

            “You’re not taking me roller skating are you?” Cas asked, his voice unsteady.

            “Oh god no. No no no. Why would you think that?”

            “I tend to immediately go for the worst case scenario.”

            “And your worst case scenario is roller skates.” Dean stated flatly. “That’s the worst date you could think of? You’re not worried I might be obsessed with the Backstreet Boys, or that I might have a furry fetish, you’re just concerned with roller skates?”

            “Well I am now!!” Cas trilled, but he was only half serious. He _had_ actually considered those possibilities and rejected them. Dean’s music choices in the brief time they’d spent together led him to believe that if he did like ‘90’s boy bands, it was a guilty pleasure, not an all consuming obsession. And if he was in to furries, well, there’s nothing Cas could do about that now, and he’d just have to run far, far away if it ever came up.

            “I’m not any of those things, so you can stop worrying. And I promise I will never make you go roller skating. I don’t even know if there’s a roller rink around here anyway, so it’s a mute point.”

            “Moot point.” Cas corrected, immediately regretting the interjection.

            “What?” Dean replied.

            “It’s moot point. It means it has no practical value or meaning. Mute means it doesn’t make any sound.” Cas was embarrassed at having corrected Dean. He supposed it might be regarded rude. Not a mark in the successful flirtation column, he supposed.

            “See I told you you were clever. I’m learning things already.” Dean grinned. “No roller skating. That’s a guarantee. But I’m not telling you what I have planned. You can veto when things come up, if I’ve planned terribly. I don’t think it will come to that, though.” He flipped on the turn signal and slowed as he made a smooth turn in to a parking lot and picked a stall. Castiel glanced around at their destination and he didn’t recognize it.

            “Stop number one. Breakfast. I’ve already taken you to my favourite place for pancakes, so I figured this was the next best thing.” Dean rushed to hold the door open as they approached the building. Castiel was immediately assaulted by the aroma of warm pastries and fresh ground coffee. The quiet little bakery had large windows along one side that looked out over the harbour and the black and white chequered floor was dotted with little glass-topped tables and wrought iron chairs. It was quaint and cosy and full of a warmth that Castiel found conspicuously absent from most modern coffee shops. He loved it immediately. Dean led him to a table in front of the window, right in the middle, where they could see the whole café as well as the waterfront. “My brother showed me this place,” Dean continued. “They make the best friggin croissants I’ve ever eaten.” He gave Castiel a quiet smile as he left him at the table to go order coffee and food. Cas settled into one of the chairs and stared out the window. Even in winter, the harbour was an active place. There was a smattering of sailboats and pleasure craft lashed to the docks closest to the shore, and off in the distance he could see a large freighter pulling away from the docks. Seagulls whirled and danced in the shallows as they battled for fish or scraps or garbage, whatever they could find. They looked so free. Castiel glanced back inside the café just as Dean returned with two mugs of coffee. Dean gave him a questioning glance. Cas supposed he looked a little wistful; he certainly felt it.

            “I was just thinking about how much I envy birds. It must be so liberating to be able to fly away whenever things get to be too much.” Castiel encircled his mug with long fingers and was about to reach for the creamers when he noticed his coffee was already milky. He glanced at Dean.

            “Three cream, a metric fuckton of sugar, right?” Dean winked as he sank in to his own seat and sipped his black coffee.

            “I don’t know if I’d call it a metric fuckton. An imperial short-fuckton maybe. ” Castiel laughed quietly as Dean raised an eyebrow. “Math joke. Never mind. But yes, the coffee is perfect,” he admitted, taking another sip and savouring it genuinely.

            “Food will be here in a few minutes. There’s a fresh batch of croissants coming out of the oven pretty quick so we’re waiting for those.” Castiel nodded acknowledgement. “So as far as first dates go this is pretty non-traditional, eh?”

            “I wouldn’t know,” Castiel conceded, thinking back to his analysis from earlier.

            “You’ve never been on a date before?” Dean looked incredulous.

            “I’ve been in relationships before, if that’s what you’re worried about, but no. I’ve always ended up getting…involved…with people I already had social interactions with. I’ve never found myself in a scenario where the ritual of dates has seemed necessary. I wouldn’t know what traditional looks like, except to compare it to movies, and I’m certainly not naïve enough to think that’s what happens in reality.”

            “Well damn, and here I was thinking I was going to have to do something really special to impress you.” Dean’s eyes lit up as he laughed.

            “Is that why the surprises? You were worried I was too _experienced_ for a normal date? Did you think I’d find you boring?” Dean took a deep drink from his coffee. It gave Castiel the impression he was stalling.

            “Maybe. Also I sorta wanted to start fresh. We had fun, but I think the whole thing where you got the impression I ran out on you counts as getting off on the wrong foot. I figured if I came up with something more memorable, we could pretend that _this_ was the story of how we met, not the other thing.” There was something warm and open about Dean’s face as he spoke, like he was speaking from the heart.

            “You say that like you’re sure the story extends past today.”

            “That’s the other reason. I’m harbouring some pretty serious hope that it does.” Castiel couldn’t help but blush. He hid it behind his coffee as the server brought out their food. Cas had been expecting just a simple croissant, but it was actually a sandwich built on one. At first glance, he could see eggs and bacon and something green and leafy. It smelled heavenly. Dean reached for his own sandwich immediately but paused with the thing half way to his mouth. “You don’t have any food allergies do you? I totally didn’t even think to ask.” Cas shook his head. “Ok good, because a large part of today is food-centric and I’d hate for this to end in the hospital. That might be beyond a do-over.” Castiel picked up his own sandwich and took a small bite. The croissant was still warm from the oven, with crispy edges and flaky crust, but the center was soft and chewy. The bacon was the perfect balance of crispy and tender. He even enjoyed the leafy bits, which were a little peppery and added a nice sharpness to the combination. Each of the individual ingredients were of obvious quality, but together they were more than the sum of their parts. He let out a pleased hum as he went for another bite.

            “You like?” Dean asked, setting his own sandwich down to reach for a napkin. He’d somehow managed to get mayonnaise on his nose.

 

            After three cups of coffee and nearly two hours in the café, Dean abruptly announced it was time to move on to stage two of his secret plan. Cas tried to push him for details, but Dean just shook his head as he held the door open for Cas to climb back in to the Impala and told him it wasn’t a secret anymore if he told.

            “It’s not far,” Dean assured him as they pulled out of the parking lot. The long black car rumbled like a pleased cat, not entirely drowned out by the somewhat louder music Dean played this time around. Castiel recognized it as AC/DC.

            “it’s not the distance I’m worried about, Dean,” Castiel countered.

            “You shouldn’t be worried at all, Cas.” Dean reached across the bench seat and placed a gentle hand on Cas’s shoulder. It was the first time they’d touched since the hug outside Cas’s apartment. “We’re going to have fun today. I promise you this. Nothing weird is going to happen. Try to just chill and enjoy it.” Castiel found himself leaning into the touch slightly. Dean’s hand was solid and warm. For some reason, it made him feel safe.

            Dean wasn’t kidding when he said it wasn’t far. They were in the car for less than five minutes before he pulled into another parking lot.

            “I wanted to take you to a zoo,” he began shyly. “But it turns out we actually don’t have one. So…I hope you like puppies.” Castiel scanned across the parking lot and saw that they were parked in front of a pet store. He turned back to Dean and beamed.

            “Who doesn’t like puppies?” He shrugged as he got out of the car.

            “Crazy people, that’s who.” They walked into the store and picked a slow path through the aisles. Castiel turned up his nose at the birds.

            “They’re too noisy,” he explained. “And they’re kind of assholes. I had a friend in high school who had a couple of birds. They’ll bite you out of spite. Plus, the concept of a cloaca just creeps me out.”

            “A what now?” Dean looked confused as he eyed the parrot with distrust. He didn’t much like birds either, if he was being honest.

            “A cloaca. It’s a multipurpose hole. Birds use it for waste and reproduction.”

            “Why do you even know this?”

            “I took a couple of bio classes in college. And they taught me that birds are weird.” Castiel shrugged.

            “Yeah, I’m picking up on that. Ok. Birds: Weird butts. Understood. Got anything against hamsters?” Dean gestured towards a glass tank full of teddy bear hamsters on the opposite wall.

            “They’re cute. I like guinea pigs better though.” He pointed at the tank full of scruffy little fur-balls just left of the hamsters.

            “They look like tribbles,” Dean offered. “Only they clearly don’t reproduce as fast because there’s food in there and they haven’t multiplied exponentially yet.”

            “Now who’s making math jokes,” Cas teased, but he smiled to himself as he turned to walk towards the back of the store. He had to admit, he was having fun. He heard Dean’s footsteps as he followed him down the aisle. At the back of the store was a room with a glass wall, and a litter of kittens frolicked on the newspaper-strewn floor.

            “Thank god they’re behind glass,” Dean muttered. “This date would be a lot less fun if I was sneezing every five seconds.” He pointed at the little orange tabby kitten, who seemed to have considerably more energy than her brothers and sisters. She bounced and pounced and rolled and tackled her siblings, and as much as Dean disliked cats, he had to admit that the sassy little ginger kitten was too frickin cute for words.

            “You’re allergic?”

            “Yeah.”

            “And you brought me to a pet store?” Cas raised an eyebrow.

            “Puppies, Cas. The plan was puppies. I never counted on kittens.”

            “That seems like a pretty large oversight.”

            “Well...whatever. I think I’ve proven that I’m pretty shit at foresight so far. I did leave without getting your number, after all. Give me some leeway here.” Dean stepped past Cas to the next enclosure, and was pleased to see it did, in fact, contain puppies.

            “Some day,” Dean mused, “when I live somewhere that isn’t an apartment, and I’ve got a yard of my own, I’m gonna get me a dog. A big one.”

            “What kind would you get?” Castiel stood beside Dean and watched the antics of the litter of mixed-breed puppies. He thought they might be some kind of terrier mix. He wasn’t really sure.

            “Golden retriever maybe. Or a Rotweiler. They get such a bad rap, but they’re big frickin softies if you raise them right. Something about that size anyway.”

            “I’ve never had a pet,” Cas said softly.

            “Me either. We moved around too much. But I’d love to have a dog.” Dean seemed to notice that Cas was getting wistful again. He snaked his fingers around Cas’s wrist, ignoring the twitch Cas gave it response, and pulled him towards the door. “Come on. Time for phase 3.”

 

            When the car rolled to a stop again, Castiel recognized where they were immediately. He knew the grove of trees off to the left, he knew the pond just down the path. He was intimately familiar with this place.

            “The park.” He stated, not asking, just establishing fact.

            “Yes. This is a park.”

            “That’s cliché.”

            “Sometimes things get to be clichés because they’re awesome enough that lots of people do them.”

            “Is that so?” Castiel teased. “I thought things got to be clichés because they’re predictable.”

            “Yeah because they’ve been done like, a million times before. If it’s tired and used, it’s because lots of people thought it was good enough to use.” Dean joined Cas on the sidewalk and they walked side by side as the path wove its way through the park. It hadn’t rained in a few weeks so the ground was dry, but the air was still full of the chill that was to be expected for late January. Castiel fastened the buttons on his trench-coat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

            “Sometimes clichés just need to be stopped though. I get that a thing can work in a lot of different situations but it doesn’t mean you have to do it,” he countered as the duck pond came in to view.

            “Are we still talking about my date planning skills?”

            “Well no, I’m talking about movies now. Outside of the park, your planning has been acceptable. I can’t say I’ve heard any clichés about first dates at a pet store.”

            “Acceptable.” Dean repeated. “With a possible upgrade to awesome?”

            “That depends.” Castiel replied with a quiet smile.

            “On…?”

            “On how long you expect me to stay outside in the cold?” Castiel wrapped his arms around himself to illustrate how cold he was.

            “Is the cold the deciding factor, or the outside part?” Dean asked, as he grabbed the pocket of Castiel’s coat and pulled him to a stop. He spun the slightly shorter man back around to face him and wrapped his own arms around Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel went still as he felt himself collide with the solid weight of Dean’s chest. The zipper was cold against his cheek, but the arms around him were definitely a source of warmth. He released his own arms and wrapped them around Dean.

            “Taking recent developments into consideration, I’m going to have to say that cold is a bigger factor than outside. But we can’t exactly walk like this. There’s logistical challenges.” Castiel murmured the words into Dean’s jacket. His own calm surprised him. And the lack of stammering.

            “What, you can’t walk backwards?” Dean laughed, and Cas could feel the vibrations through his chest.

            “Not effectively,” he conceded.

            “Well then we have a few choices, the way I see it. We stand here and stay warm, but completely miss the point of coming here, which was to walk through the park for a while.   Or we walk through the park, but then you’re cold and I miss the chance to upgrade this date from acceptable to awesome. Or the third option, and this is the option I think holds the most merit, is we go somewhere that’s both not cold and not outside, but we maybe do more of this anyway because it’s actually pretty great.” Cas felt his cheeks flush.

            “As much as I like the idea of the park, in theory, I’m going to have to vote for not standing outside in the cold in the middle of the winter. I can barely feel my fingers.” But they just stood there for another minute, neither of them wanting to be the first to break the embrace. “Um, Dean?”

            “Yeah Cas?”

            “I think in order to go inside, we have to actually, you know. Go.”

            “Right.” Dean let his arms slip from Cas’s shoulders, letting their eyes meet for a moment as Cas stepped backwards. Cas moved to stuff his cold hands back in to his pockets, but at the last second Dean grabbed one hand and wrapped it up in his own. “You can put one hand in your pocket. I’ll keep this one warm for you.”

            The walk back to the car didn’t’ take long. Castiel realized as they walked that Dean was just as cold as he was. The leather he was wearing was thin enough that it couldn’t provide much insulation. He was pretty sure Dean was shivering by the time they reached the car.

            “So does this ruin your plan?” Cas jabbed. Dean started the engine but didn’t shift the car in to gear right away. He opened all the vents and made sure the heat was turned up as high as it would go.

            “Depends, did it ruin the date for you?”

            “No.” Cas replied quickly. He was actually kind of glad for the cold. The warm hug was well worth the minutes spent freezing in the park. “You’re still at acceptable. Maybe even acceptable plus.”

            “Then no, everything is going according to plan. Mostly. But it does escalate my timeline in an unmanageable way. We’ll need to improvise a bit.”

 

            Improvising, as it turned out, meant ordering the largest hot chocolate Dunkin’ Donuts had to offer and driving until the city gave way to suburbia and suburbia gave way to old winding strips of blacktop through quiet forests and farmland. Conversation came more easily than Castiel would have expected. Dean spoke honestly, laughed freely, and never pressed Cas on any subject he seemed reticent to speak about. Sometime into the mid-afternoon sipped the last of his hot chocolate, long since gone cold.

            “How can you say that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, the entire Resident Evil series is fantastic, but they’re based on a series of video games. The entire genre of game adaptation movies is a horrible idea. Dawn of the Dead is a far superior zombie movie, in every possible respect. I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.”

            “No way,” Dean countered. “I can’t accept that. Dawn of the Dead is great. I like both versions, the original and the remake. But Umbrella Corporation is a frickin terrifying corporate entity, and when you throw the element of _intentionally created_ zombies in to the mix, things start to get really interesting. The sequels don’t measure up on the same level, I’ll grant that. The first three are ok but they really should have stopped at Extinction.”

            “Zombie crows, Dean, really? You think zombie crows are superior to _Romero?_ That’s absurd. I will grant that Resident Evil has some stellar scenes, and the suspense in the first film is pretty well done, but it is cheese on top of cheese. It doesn’t even compare.”

            “You know there’s only one way to settle this, right?” Dean glanced at Cas briefly. His eyes lingered as long as he could justify taking them off the road, maybe even a little longer.

            “You admit my analysis is superior and we both agree to agree?”

            “What? No! I was going to say we drive back in to town, order a whole mess of take out, and have an in-depth analysis of the films. It’s the only fair way to approach this.” Dean spotted a side road and eased the Impala into a five-point turn without waiting for Castiel to assent to the decision.

            “But what about your master date plan? Shouldn’t we be on phase four by now?”

            “This is more important. This is _infinitely_ more important. The only thing left to decide is where to get the takeout. Do you like Chinese food?”

            “Love it.” Cas’s jaw was set with determination now. There’s no way Dean was going to win this argument.

            “Great. There’s a place a few blocks from my place that does great crispy ginger beef. I have all the Resident Evil movies, but I don’t have Dawn of the Dead. We’ll have to see if it’s on Netflix.”

            “I’ve got the DVD. We can stop at my place.”

 

            “Hey Cas! How was the big date?” Gabriel beamed at him from the couch as he dashed through the front door and bee lined for his DVD collection. His older brother was reclined under a blanket looking rather sorry for himself. Castiel chalked it up to a hangover

            “Going well. Present tense. Not over yet. Gotta go!” He found the movie he was looking for quickly and made for the door.

            “Seriously?”

            “Yes. He’s under the mistaken impression that Resident Evil is better than Dawn of the Dead. I’m about to disabuse him of that notion.”

            “You don’t want to invite him in for a drink maybe? Meet your incredibly discerning older brother?”

            “I can think of very few things I would like less right now, Gabe. I don’t know what time I’ll be home. Don’t wait up.”

            “Hey, that’s my line!” Gabe called after him, but Castiel was already out the door.

 

            “So we’re in agreement then? We’re comparing 2004 Dawn of the Dead with the first Resident Evil only, because we want to compare same era, and we want to compare single films. The 1978 film is not open for debate, and anything that happens from Resident Evil Apocalypse onward is not admissible evidence either.” Castiel narrowed his eyes as he laid out the terms of their contest, fixing Dean with what he hoped was a withering and challenging stare, and not a weird creepy expression.

            “Full agreement,” Dean replied. He turned to pull two plates out of the cupboard. Cas took his first look around Dean’s apartment. It was small but cosy, with an open kitchen and carpets that were much softer than the usual apartment. “But what are the stakes?”

            “What do you mean what are the stakes? The winner gets the knowledge that they are the superior judge of zombie cinema. It’s an important distinction. What more could you need?”  
            “If I win…” Dean smirked at Castiel as he handed him a plate. “If I win, you have to go on a second date with me.” He gave Cas a little wink.

            “Is that your really subtle way of asking if I’ve upgraded this date past the rank of ‘acceptable?’ Because my answer will be the same now as it is after the movies. There will definitely be a second date.”

            “Oh. Well in that case I’m happy with just bragging rights. So which one are we watching first?” Dean asked as they made their way into the living room and sat down on the couch. The room was full of the pleasant aroma of Chinese takeout.

            “Dawn of the Dead first. Definitely. Once you watch that one again, and then follow it up with Resident Evil, you won’t even want to argue the point any further. I’m sure of it.” He nodded smugly at the affronted look on Dean’s face.

            “Do you want a beer?”

            “Please.” Dean returned a moment later with two cold, dewy bottles, and popped the disc into the DVD player.

 

            Somewhere in the course of the movie, after the takeout was finished and the beer bottles emptied, Castiel reclined against the back of the couch with a contented sigh. On-screen, Luda was just about to give birth to her abominable zombie baby, and Dean was voicing positive opinions about the movie overall, so he was confident in his impending victory. When Dean reached an arm around his shoulder, he didn’t freeze up or feel the need to run away. He felt safe and comfortable, so he let himself lean against Dean’s shoulder with a smile across his face.

 

            By the time the end credits rolled on Resident Evil, Castiel was sure he’d won. He could list off a whole host of reasons why his choice was the superior movie.

            “So? Are you ready to admit defeat?” He snarked, pulling away from his comfortable position against Dean’s shoulder and turning to face the other man.

            “I don’t know man, I mean, it’s good, but Alice is pretty fucking badass. I’m not convinced.” Cas’s jaw dropped.

            “How can you not be convinced? The gore is done better, the story is superior, and the action sequences are so much more intense! Half the suspense in Resident Evil isn’t even zombies, it’s weird freaky computer program shit and that mutant thing that isn’t even actually a zombie! I don’t even understand the basis of your argument.” He huffed and crossed his arms in a show of defiance he only half felt. Even if Dean was committed to being wrong, the evening had still been fun.

            “Ok, you got me. You totally convinced me. I concede defeat. Dawn of the Dead is the superior zombie movie. I just wanted to watch you freak out. You’re just so damn cute when you get intense about zombie movies.” Dean grinned at the exasperated blush that crept across Cas’s cheeks.

            “You’re such a jerk.” Castiel glowered as he spoke, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was too busy being enamoured with Dean.

            “So…it’s nine. You think you have it in you to watch another one?”

            “I’m game if you are.”

 

            “Dean?”

            “Yeah Cas?”  
            “It’s three am.”

            “No it’s not. We’ve only been watching movies for—“

            “Nine hours Dean. We’ve been watching zombie movies for nine hours. Actually, almost ten”

            “No way.”

            “Yes way, Dean. We watched Dawn of the Dead and all five Resident Evil movies. I could show you the math, if you don’t believe me.” Dean laughed.

            “I’m not doubting your math, Cas. It just…doesn’t feel like that long.”

            “What’s the old adage? Time flies when you’re having fun?” Castiel snuggled back against Dean’s shoulder. There was a blanket draped over him. He vaguely recalled Dean fetching it from a closet somewhere during the fourth movie.

            “Now who’s being cliché?” Dean teased. Castiel just turned and smiled at him. He scrubbed a hand through his unruly hair. He should really be getting home, he knew, but he didn’t actually _want_ to. “I could kiss you right now,” Dean murmured, his voice uncertain for the first time the entire day.

            “I could let you,” Castiel heard his own voice say, barely above a whisper. He leaned in without hesitation, letting his lips brush softly against Dean’s as his eyes slipped closed. Dean’s other hand, the one that wasn’t still draped across Cas’s shoulder, came up to rest gently against Castiel’s chin, his thumb stroking across the grain of stubble that had blossomed in the seventeen hours since he’d shaved the previous morning. The kiss was slow and soft and sweet, but somehow they both came away breathless.

            “I should probably take you home,” Dean admitted. There was a hint of disappointment in his voice that Castiel barely registered.

            “Yeah, I guess so.” The disappointment in Castiel’s own voice was much more tangible, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t intend to sleep with Dean again, not so soon, but he didn’t want this day to end.

            “Or…” Dean began hesitantly. “You could just sleep here.” He looked at Cas with eyes that he was pretty sure were meant to appear innocent.

            “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dean.”

            “And I mean actually sleep. I don’t put out on the first date.” He winked at Cas, his confidence suddenly restored.

            “Oh really? And what exactly was last Saturday then?” Castiel gave his shoulder a playful shove.

            “That wasn’t a date. It doesn’t count. This is totally date number one. And I’m not putting out, so don’t you get any ideas. If you stay here, it’s sleepy snuggling only. Otherwise, I’m taking you right home, and you can just explain to that big brother of yours that I sent you home because you couldn’t be a gentleman.” Dean actually had the gall to pout then, as he waited for Cas’s answer.

            “I think I can manage to be a gentleman,” Cas replied shyly, before Dean leaned in to claim his lips in another tender kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter today, but I'm already started on the next one! Holiday weekends are lovely for writing.

            Cas woke to the sounds of an unfamiliar apartment and suppressed a momentary twinge of panic. The bustle of traffic outside told him it was late morning, at least, because there’s no way an early Sunday morning would create such a ruckus. He was curled up tightly on his side as per usual, but instead of a vast expanse of empty mattress behind him, Dean’s torso was pressed against his back, and Dean’s arm was draped over his waist, and Dean’s legs were tucked up in matching angles with his own. Cas shifted slightly, working the blood back into the arm that had gone all pins-and-needles in his sleep. The movement woke Dean.

            “Good Morning,” he murmured into the back of Cas’s neck, and the arm that was draped across his waist tightened, pulling him into a backwards hug. Castiel let himself snuggle in to the embrace.

            “I’m not entirely certain it’s still morning,” Cas replied. He grasped Dean’s wrist with his free arm and lifted it just enough that to allow him to roll over and face the man curled up behind him. Dean’s hair was flattened to one side of his head; he’d obviously slept in the same position for the entirety of however many hours they’d been in bed. He still managed to look beautiful. Dean’s arm gripped him tight again, and Cas found his own hand settling on Dean’s hip under the thick, fluffy comforter. “My phone’s in my coat, and I don’t see a clock in here. Do you have your phone?”

            “Yeah. But I don’t really want to check. What if I tell you what time it is and you decide that means its time to leave? Now that I finally got my lazy morning in bed with you, I’m kinda liking it.” Dean pouted a little, which Castiel would totally pretend he didn’t find completely disarming if you asked him about it, and then kissed Cas on the cheek gently. His hand roamed lazily over Castiel’s back through the borrowed tee-shirt he was wearing, coaxing a pleased sigh from Cas’s lips.

            “But does this still count as the first date? Technically it’s not the same day, but in this arbitrary rule schematic you’ve mapped out, are we on date number one?” Cas tried to make his voice light, but he managed to come out businesslike. He’d never get a handle on this flirting thing.

            “Well yes. It’s just Date One, Day two,” Dean muttered between feather-light kisses on Cas’s jawline.

            “Then we really should get out of bed, lazy Sunday or not. Much as I’d love to stay here, if we do, it’s inevitable that one of us will lose the resolve to remain a gentleman. And you said you don’t ‘put out’ on the first date, so….”

            “You sassy bastard,” Dean chuckled.

            “No sass intended, Dean. I’m just stating the facts.” Dean’s arm flexed around Cas’s waist, effectively locking him in place.

            “I don’t wanna.”

            “Are you always this much of a child?” Cas teased, but he didn’t struggle against the restraining limb. Instead he let Dean draw him in to another kiss, long and slow and sensuous.

            “I’m not a child,” Dean protested half-heartedly. “I’m a grown-ass man.” He nuzzled against Cas’s jaw and gave a contented sigh. Cas got the impression he was settling in to fall back asleep.

            “How about this: You get out of bed, put some pants on and stop tempting me, and we go get pancakes? Fair trade off?” Dean’s eyes perked up at the suggestion, but his smile was still sleepy.

            “I think I could get behind that.” He released Cas from his death-grip hug to stretch his muscular arms high above his head. Try as he might, Castiel could not help but rake his eyes over the gorgeous muscles of his torso as they shifted and rippled beneath his skin. He pushed himself off the bed anyway, retrieving his pants from the haphazard pile on the floor where he’d left them. He reached for his button-up. “Wear the tee-shirt” Dean called out behind him. “It looks good on you.” Castiel glanced down at the soft black garment. It was a little bit too big for him, but it smelled unmistakeably of Dean. He shrugged and pulled his sweater on over it, leaving his dress shirt draped over the closet door-handle.

            “I’ve got to go check my phone. I’m sure Gabriel has left me all manner of accusatory messages by now.” Dean finally swung his legs out to meet the floor as Castiel was walking out of the room. He found his cell phone in the pocket of his trench coat as expected, hanging on a hook near the front door. He’d ignored it all day on Saturday so the battery hadn’t died despite the full twenty-four plus hours since he’d plugged it in. He absentmindedly noted the time (just past noon, as to be expected after staying up so late the night before, he supposed) and opened his messages. There was only one from Gabriel. It implied that Castiel’s reason for not coming home the night before was considerably more explicit than the reality. He ignored it. There were, however, nine messages from Charlie.

_5:05 PM_ _: So how was the date?_

_6:45PM_ _: That good, eh?_

_7:15 PM_ _: You better call me with all the juicy details when you get home._

_8:50 PM_ _: How are you not home yet. Who goes on an 11 hr first date?_

_9:25 PM_ _: WTF Cas._

_9:27 PM_ _: Oh my god call me you jerk._

_11:15 PM_ _: Are you serious? You’re sleeping with him already/again?_

_11:45 PM_ _: I don’t know whether to congratulate you or give you shit._

_12:25 AM_ _: OK well I’m going to bed, call me tomorrow you lil champ._

            Castiel laughed quietly to himself. He sent a quick reply indicating that he did not, in fact, have sex with Dean that night, and was just about to tuck his phone away when it rang in his hand.

            “What the hell Cas??? First dates don’t generally last an entire day.”

            “This one did!” He muttered into the phone. He could hear the sound of water running. Dean must have decided to take a quick shower before breakfast.

            “So you had a really good date, and just happened to spend the night, but you’re telling me you didn’t sleep with him?” Charlie’s voice was heavy with disbelief.

            “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. We had Chinese takeout and watched 6 zombie movies. Dean was under the impression that Resident Evil was better than Dawn of the Dead. We had to sort that out. And then I slept here. _Slept_. Because it was three in the morning. That’s it.” Castiel couldn’t help but notice a slight hint of giddiness in his voice.

            “Uh huh.”

            “I’m entirely serious. And besides, I said I’d call you when the date was over. It’s not technically over yet. He’s taking a shower and then we’re going out for breakfast. I’ll call you back later.”

            “Wait wait wait. That’s all I get?” Charlie whined through the phone.

            “I will call you later when I get home, and you can ask all the prying questions you want. I make no promises that I will answer them all, but you can ask. Bye Charlie.” He hung up the phone just as Dean walked in to the room, shirtless but in clean jeans, drying his close-cropped hair with a towel.

            “Your brother?” He asked, gesturing to the phone in Cas’s hand.

            “No, he sent me a single message implying something rather explicit but that’s all, thankfully. That was Charlie.” Castiel grimaced at his phone.

            “Ah. Are you in trouble for missing curfew?” Dean teased. He retreated in to his room and came back a moment later pulling a tee-shirt over his head. It was followed by a flannel shirt and his leather jacket. Castiel shook his head at the comment.

            “I think she’s living vicariously through me. Breakfast?”

 

After such an eventful weekend, Castiel was in a spectacular mood when he arrived at the office Monday morning. He was only slightly distracted during the time-waste meeting that started his day, and he managed to bide his time through the two-hour event without too much grumbling. As the meeting let out, he grabbed a glazed donut with a napkin and tucked his note-pad under his arm to meander back to his desk. As he reached the door, his boss’s voice rang out behind him.

“Just a minute, Castiel. Can I speak to you please?” Castiel froze. A sense of panic and dread blossomed in his mind as he struggled to imagine what he could be coming under scrutiny for. Did someone notice the flurry of text messages he’d been responding to at his desk? Had he screwed up a report last week when he was distracted by thoughts of Dean? Mister Worst Case Scenario took over in his brain and in the brief seconds it took him to turn around, set his notebook and donut down, and nod in acknowledgement of Zachariah’s request, he’d spun out a thousand different ways this conversation could go, and none of them were good. He suppressed a shudder as those dead eyes took him in, revealing no hint of what was on his mind.

“I’ve been very impressed with your work lately,” he began. “You’ve taken on a considerable workload, and your reports are immaculate. I was especially pleased with your analysis of the quarterlies for the northern branches last time around.”

“Thank you, sir.” Castiel said quietly. The conversation started well enough, which didn’t play into even one of the scenarios he’d imagined, but he was still waiting for the axe to fall.

“Please, call me Zach. How long have we worked together? There’s no need to be so formal.” Zach’s smile was greasy and wolfish. Castiel decided he preferred the flat stare he usually received. “I’m going to be out of town for the Monday meeting two weeks from now, as will most of the senior team members. There’s a planning conference at the New York office we’ll be attending. I’d like you to lead the meeting in my place.” Castiel was sure all the colour drained out of his face. This was so, _so_ much worse than all the scenarios he imagined.

 

“But isn’t that a good thing?” Charlie inquired. “It sounds like your boss really appreciates your work. You should be proud that he’s noticed you.” Castiel shook his head slowly as he took the takeout bag from the teenager behind the counter and thanked her.

“I’m very happy that he appreciates my work. But I hate these meetings enough when I’m just a silent participant. I have to speak in front of all my coworkers for almost two straight hours. I’ve never hosted a meeting before! I don’t even like talking to people at the grocery store, how am I supposed to do this without freaking out???”

“Cas, you have two weeks to prepare. You’ll be fine. You must have done presentations in front of the class when you were getting your degree. This can’t be much different than that.”

“That’s not a comforting thought. Speaking in front of the class was possibly my least favourite part of the entire experience.” Castiel hung his head as they walked out in to the cold. He was grateful Charlie’s apartment was nearby; they wouldn’t have to walk long. He should probably buy a warmer coat at some point but that would mean hanging up his trench coat and he couldn’t get over the strange emotional attachment to the garment.

“I’ll help you. We can put together a PowerPoint presentation or something, and you can practice on me. Maybe Dean will help too?”

“I don’t know…he would likely find it rather boring.”

            “And I won’t? We’re not doing it for the subject matter, Cas, we’d be doing it to help you. I bet Dean would be more than happy to listen to you talk for an hour or two. Is there a format you have to follow exactly, or can you tweak it a bit.”

            “I’m not really sure. No one else ever leads the meetings so I only know how Zachariah does it.” He shifted the bag to his other hand to pull his ringing phone out of the lefthand pocket. “Hi Dean.”

            “Hey Cas. What are you up to?” Castiel smiled at the sound of Dean’s voice. They’d exchanged a handful of text messages back and forth that day, but it was still pleasant to know that Dean was thinking of him.

            “Having dinner with Charlie. How are you?”

            “Good, I’m good. Listen, you’re busy so I won’t keep you long, but would you like to come over for dinner on Friday.”

            “I’d like that very much Dean.” Charlie smacked his arm excitedly and mouthed ‘Ask him!’ Castiel brushed her hand away with a glare, but he couldn’t maintain the look of consternation. “Hey listen, I have this presentation I have to do at work in a couple of weeks, and I’m quite nervous about it. Do you think I could talk you in to sitting through a read-through next weekend? It will be rather boring but I’d really appreciate the opportunity to practice in front of an audience.”

            “Of course, Cas. I’d be happy to help.”

            Charlie patted his shoulder as he hung up the phone.

            “Well, what did he say?” she asked as they reached her apartment.

            “He said he’d be happy to help.”

            “I told you. The boy is head over heels for you. He’d listen to you read Vogon poetry if you asked.”

            “What is a Vogon?” Castiel cocked his head in query as they stepped in to the elevator.

            “You’ve never read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?” Charlie squeaked. “Man, you have lived a sheltered life.”

 

            Castiel spent the rest of the week attempting to keep his mind on his work. The prospect of another date with Dean kept his mood high, and not even the stress of the impending presentation in the Monday meeting was enough to drag him down. Zachariah had given him the OK to change the formatting, with the caveat that all the same data was covered, and that he collect feedback from the team when it was completed. Thursday afternoon, his favourite afternoon, he sat at his desk preparing a presentation feedback submission form to distribute at the end of the meeting. It was still more than a week away, but he couldn’t start working on the data until the reports started to come in the following Monday, and he needed to feel prepared. He stared at the screen trying to decide if he should include a ranking scale, or just ask for commentary feedback, or a yes/no as to the effectiveness of the meeting formatting, when he felt a tickle in his throat. Castiel chalked it up to thirst and pushed himself away from his desk to go grab a bottle of water from the lunch room. Half way down the corridor, a violent sneeze ripped through him, followed closely by another, and then a third, much less violent. He changed course for the bathroom.

            When Castiel strode sluggishly into the men’s room and regarded himself in the mirror, he looked tired and haggard. There was very little colour in his cheeks and his eyes looked dull and grey. The tickle in his throat was more prominent now. The pallor could maybe be chalked up to the weak fluorescent lighting, but he didn’t think that was likely. He felt another sneeze coming on and managed to grab a wad of toilet paper to blow his nose before he unleashed a loud flurry of the things. _Great. Just entirely perfect,_ he thought to himself. Castiel couldn’t exactly remember the last time he got sick, but it was a long, long time ago. And it was awful. He didn’t get sick very frequently but he tended to get laid low for an unreasonable amount of time when he did. Likely, he’d be a useless wreck by this time tomorrow, and it would be at least Tuesday before he was feeling like a functional human being again. He realized with another sigh (and a sneeze) that his weekend plans with Dean would be the unfortunate victim.

            Castiel made his way to Zachariah’s office with a sniff and a groan, assuring his boss that while he wouldn’t be in for Friday, he’d take some work and his laptop home and get something done over the weekend.

            “That’s not necessary, Castiel. Your productivity isn’t in question. Take the day, rest up. You haven’t taken a sick day in over a year. It’s only reasonable for you to go take care of yourself.” He tried to protest, but Zach wasn’t having any of it. “If I see you logged in remotely tomorrow, I’m calling you on it. That’s final. And take a cab home. You shouldn’t be walking outside like that.”

 

            Castiel took Zach’s advice or command or whatever you wanted to call it to heart. He left all the work on his desk and hailed a cab outside the office. He had the driver stop at the drug store for cold-and-flu pills and an economy sized box of tissues. By the time he walked through his apartment door, Castiel was beyond exhausted. He couldn’t imagine how terrible he’d have felt if he tried to stick out the end of the work day, and going in for Friday might as well have been a fever dream. He likely wouldn’t even make it out the door at this rate. Castiel changed in to pyjamas and curled up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of herbal tea. Dean would be disappointed when he cancelled their plans tomorrow, he was certain, but he’d be terrible company. And besides, he didn’t much relish the idea of Dean seeing him in such a weakened state. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would make him seem particularly attractive. The common cold didn’t hold much sex appeal.

            At five-thirty, Gabriel came home. He ordered takeout and made Castiel sit up long enough to get some food in him, though Cas protested that he didn’t have an appetite.

            “You need to eat, Cas,” Gabriel insisted. “How do you expect to fight this cold off if you don’t have any fuel in the fire?” So Castiel reluctantly ate the plate of Thai curry that Gabriel set down in front of him, though he could barely taste it even with all the spices. As he finished eating, he figured Dean would probably be home from work.

_I’m afraid I’m going to have to postpone our date tomorrow. I’m sick :(_

He felt guilty cancelling, even though he knew Dean wouldn’t begrudge him, but he was already miserable. Tomorrow would be worse. What he needed was a day of sleep. He fell asleep on the couch shortly thereafter, and when he woke up in the middle of the night with a kink in his neck, he didn’t even bother checking to see if Dean replied. He’d apologise tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after I posted the last chapter, I came down with a cold. I haven't been sick in a year and a half, so that's pretty random. Let me tell you, it is way easier to write a sick, whiny Cas when you yourself are sick and whiny. Life imitating art! (If you consider explicit gay fanfiction to be art, that is)

Despite his utter exhaustion, Castiel slept poorly. Terribly, in fact. He woke up more times than he could count in coughing fits, took forever to fall back asleep because his sinuses impeded breathing, and no matter how many times he tossed and turned, he just could not get comfortable. He dozed and woke in unpleasant cycles until the full morning sun streaming through his window convinced him it would be more comfortable in the living room. It was at least a bit dimmer in there if he turned the lights off. He could nap the morning away with shitty daytime television and ginger ale and self pity. Beautiful.

He was already swathed in flannel pyjama pants and the tee-shirt he’d worn home from Dean’s the previous weekend, but at the last minute he turned back from the door and grabbed the comforter off his bed, draping it over his shoulders like a cape. Castiel shuffled groggily out of the bedroom, dragging his feet and making forlorn whimpering noises that he’d never utter while anyone was present to hear them. There was something cathartic about wallowing in the depths of his self pity. Only, as he dragged himself towards the couch, he realized the TV was already on, and he was very plainly not alone.

“Gabe? Did you skip out on work?” As much as his brother was more committed to partying than being a functional adult, Castiel had never seen him take a sick day unless he was actually sick. Castiel highly doubted he’d start today. So why was he home?

“I thought you might need someone to take care of you, since you’re obviously a giant baby when you’re sick.” Castiel’s addled brain took a moment to process Dean’s voice carrying over the couch. He slung an arm over the back and hoisted himself up and into Castiel’s view. Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“How did you get in to my apartment? Why aren’t you at work?” He coughed into his fist as he finished speaking. Talking felt like a lot of work all of a sudden.

“If you don’t want your brother to read your text messages and plan daytime healthcare behind your back with the guy you’re not sleeping with, you should either password protect your phone or stop leaving it where your brother can get to it. Or possibly both. As for work, I don’t even remember the last time I took a vacation day. Bobby was happy to let me play hooky.” Dean grinned at Cas for a moment, but his face suddenly shifted to a look of concern. “You need to sit down.” He moved around the couch quickly and guided Castiel around until he could flop down on to the couch. Cas hadn’t realized how exhausting it was to stand up until he stopped.

“You don’t have to do this, Dean,” Castiel insisted with a sniffle. “I’m not dying, I have a cold. I just need sleep and fluids. And I’m contagious. You’re going to get sick too. You should just go home.” He pouted and tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Dean shook his head and walked in to the kitchen. “You are gonna lie down on that couch and drink ginger ale and eat soup and I’m going to baby you and you’re going to let me. This is non-negotiable. Now, do you want to watch Maury, or the Price is Right?”

“Daytime TV sucks,” Castiel replied petulantly, but he reached for the glass of ginger ale Dean handed him. It was cool and soothing on his throat as he drank it down.

“You know you’re a brat when you’re sick, right?” Dean sank on to the couch beside Castiel and snatched up the remote. “How about we watch a movie then, if you’re too good for soap operas and game shows?”

“Sure, if you want.” Castiel snuggled further under his blanket.

“It’s not really about what I want, Cas. What do _you_ want?” His arm snaked around Castiel’s blanket-covered shoulders as he spoke, and he pulled the smaller man close against him. Castiel let himself be held. The weight of Dean’s arm was comforting, and it wasn’t until he felt the heat radiating off of Dean’s body that he realized how cold he’d been.

“I want to not be sick anymore,” he mumbled petulantly, sighing and tucking his legs up on to the couch as he did. The blanket was wrapped awkwardly now, but he was comfortable, his head resting on Dean’s lap, Dean’s arm draped over him in a protective gesture. He felt the rumble of Dean’s laughter.

“If I had a cure for the common cold I’d give it to you.” Dean ran his fingers through the tousled mop of hair on Cas’s head, and he hummed pleasantly at the attention. “You’re shivering. Are you cold?” Dean’s voice was tinged with worry.

“A little? I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Dean replied flatly.

“I’m sick. You’re supposed to be nice to me.” Castiel tried to pull the blanket tighter around himself and realized it was wrapped as close as it would go. “Ok yes. I’m cold.”

“You need a hot shower. Warm you right up,” Dean announced. He nudged Cas off his lap as he stood up, then helped Cas to his feet. The blanket fell from his shoulders as he stood. Definitely cold. “Come on.” Dean guided him to the bathroom. Castiel’s feet didn’t seem to want to respond properly. He stumbled more than walked, dragging his feet as he went. He probably could have walked just fine on his own, he reasoned, but he didn’t feel like it. Yes. That’s what it was. He was perfectly capable; he just didn’t feel like expending the energy.   Dean slipped into the bathroom behind him and started the shower, running the water until the room was full with a thick cloud of steam. “You need a nice long shower. Then you’ll start feeling better.” Castiel started to tug the tee-shirt off over his head, but then he noticed Dean was staring at him.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“Well I couldn’t help but notice that you’re a bit unsteady on your feet there. I can’t have you getting dizzy and falling in the shower. Not on my watch.” Castiel fixed him with what he hoped was a flat stare. His brain was as foggy as the air in the bathroom. He couldn’t be certain all his nerves were responding as they should.

“Dean,” he warned.

“Nope. Staying right here.” A self-satisfied smile spread across his lips. “Unless you want me in there with you? I could hold you up.”

“Are you trying to take advantage of me in my weakened state?”

“Me? Never! I’m here for your benefit only.” Dean shed his own shirt without another word, then tugged Castiel’s off over his head. Cas had forgotten he was supposed to be getting undressed. Pants and boxers followed, and then they were both standing naked on the bathmat. Cas stood with a vacant look on his face. “I think the shower is more effective if you actually get in, Cas,” Dean remind him. He held the shower curtain open with one hand and guided Cas gently forward with the other hand on the small of his back. Castiel stepped in with a sheepish look on his face.

The warmth of the shower was a stark contrast to the chill he felt in his bones. He felt a soft sigh escape his lips almost as soon as the water hit his skin. Cas stepped further under the spray. It stuck the haphazard tufts of hair to his head and ran rivulets down his face.

“I told you,” Dean said behind him. “Warm you right up.” Castiel reached for a bar of soap. He didn’t usually linger in the shower; his instinct was to wash and get out quickly. Dean wrapped his hand around Castiel’s wrist, stilling his movement. “Gimme that.” Castiel let himself revel in the sensation of tender, calloused hands spreading across his back, leaving a trail of suds in their wake. Dean’s hands ran up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing the shape of muscles and suffusing Castiel’s flesh with an entirely different kind of warmth than the shower did. They ghosted over his hips, up his stomach, across his chest. The sensation of touch coupled with the warmth of the shower lifted the weariness from his body and replaced it with a pleasant calm. Dean set the soap down on the little shelf set in to the shower wall and returned his hands to Castiel’s shoulders. He applied barely any pressure, but it still eased the aches that the illness had visited upon Castiel’s body. He was so wrapped up in the relaxation and the pleasure of letting someone take care of him that he didn’t even try to stop the small moan that drifted from his lips. Dean laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Castiel murmured sleepily.

“You.” Dean replied. “Turn around,” he commanded, and Castiel spun in place to face him. Cas didn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t the cold shock of shampoo squeezed directly on to his head. The noise he made was decidedly undignified but Dean pretended not to notice. He massaged the suds in to Castiel’s hair in gentle circles, taking care not to get any in his eyes, and then pushed him backwards every so slightly to rinse off under the soothing spray. Castiel closed his eyes and drank in the sensation as Dean’s hands continued to rake through his hair, melting under the attention. When Dean’s lips brushed against his own, Castiel’s foggy brain took a moment to register the new stimulus, but when it did he responded eagerly. The kiss started off gentle and teasing. Dean’s lips barely touched Castiel’s at first, just the ghost of a kiss. The spray of the shower ran down their faces and made the kiss wetter, hotter, even as it was chaste and tender. But then Castiel’s brain engaged and he deepened the kiss, parting his lips to allow Dean’s tongue to dart out and lick teasingly into his mouth, and Castiel found himself pressed against the cool tiles by the firm weight of Dean’s body. And just as suddenly as Dean’s lips had claimed his own, they retreated, and he found himself staring breathlessly into Dean’s eyes. Surely his own eyes didn’t look that blown wide with lust, he reasoned. Surely his own lips couldn’t be that red, not from such a short kiss.

“You warm enough?” Dean asked teasingly, watching the rapid rise and fall of Castiel’s chest. Cas just stared back at him with wide eyes. Dean lifted his hand to caress Cas’s cheek briefly, then reached past him to shut off the shower.

As they stepped out of the shower and dripped on the bathmat Dean wrapped him in a fluffy towel before taking up another to dry himself off. The room was still shrouded in a cloud of steam. Castiel was grateful for the continued warmth. He took longer than usual to dry himself off. His limbs didn’t seem to want to move as quickly as he was used to. Dean guided him back to his bedroom still wrapped in the towel, and back to the couch once he was dressed in clean sweatpants. Castiel did feel considerably warmer after the shower, he had to admit. And considerably less grumpy.

“So, are you still too busy feeling sorry for yourself to pick something to watch?” Dean teased. He ruffled Cas’s still-damp hair and draped the blanket back over him.

“I haven’t watched Pulp Fiction in a while.” Cas declared. Dean retrieved the DVD from the shelf, but Castiel was asleep on the couch before the movie even started.

 

Castiel woke to the credits rolling onscreen. He yawned and stretched, but didn’t feel any particular motivation to move. A pleasant sleepiness still dulled his senses, and the couch was soft and comfortable beneath him. There was a fresh glass of ginger ale on the table; the ice cubes hadn’t even had a chance to melt yet. He sat up slowly and took a long drink, allowing himself a small sigh at how soothing it felt.

“Ah. You’re awake,” came Dean’s voice from behind him.

“Sorry.”

“What exactly are you sorry for? You’re sick. You _should_ be taking naps. You should also be eating,” Dean chastised. “You’re not going to get better if you don’t eat anything. When I was little and I got sick, my mom would always make me tomato and rice soup.” Castiel started to protest. “But your brother told me you hate tomato soup, so I made you chicken noodle.” Before Cas had a chance to say anything in response, Dean set a steaming bowl of soup down on the coffee table in front of him. It smelled amazing. The fact that he could smell it was even more amazing; if he could smell anything at all, he must be getting better. Castiel blew on a spoonful of broth and noodles before tasting it, wary of burning his mouth.

“This isn’t from a can.” The soup tasted too good, too fresh.

“You were asleep for like two and a half hours. I had time.” Dean shrugged as he sat down on the couch with his own soup.

“So you just decided to make soup from scratch.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, you gotta have soup when you’re sick. It’s only right.” Castiel smiled, warm and hearty as the soup.

 

Castiel napped on and off all afternoon. Every time he woke up there was a fresh glass of ginger ale on the table, and Dean wasn’t far away. He woke to Dean seated on the couch beside him, or puttering around the kitchen. He woke with his head on Dean’s lap with Dean’s hand resting on his shoulder, or carding gently through his hair. By the time Gabriel came home he was feeling at least a little less shitty even if it was only by merit of having such attention lavished on him. It was nice to be taken care of, he decided.

“Hey, Dean-o! How’s our little patient doing?” Gabe bellowed as he strolled through the door carrying a six-pack of beer and a take-out pizza box.

“You’re going to have to stop calling me that, Gabriel.” Dean said with a raised eyebrow. Castiel sat up on the couch and let Dean pull him close against his side, making room for Gabriel.

“You haven’t passed the big brother test yet, _Dean-o,”_ he replied as he set the beer down on the table. “You’re not really in a position to be issuing any demands. I’m still not sure Cas should be giving you a second chance at all, after the way you bailed on him.”

“Gabe,” Castiel warned. “We’ve been over this. It was all a big misunderstanding. I don’t need you to defend my honour.” He tried to glare, but the effect was lessened by the way his hair stuck up haphazardly, and the fact that he couldn’t help but snuggle against Dean’s shoulder.

“Excuse me? I seem to remember a few choice encounters in high-school where you very definitely _did_ need me to defend your honour.”

“And I remember several more where you were the source of my problems. We’re not in high school anymore Gabe, I can take care of myself.” Gabriel just laughed.

“Right. And that’s why this asshole had to take a day off work just to come baby you. Sure thing Cas, anything you say.”

“Hey! You helped me pull this off, Gabriel.”

“I thought it would be good for a laugh. I’ve seen how grumpy this kid gets when he’s sick. Figured it would blow up in your face. Can’t trust a guy who can’t handle my little bro at his worst.” Gabe helped himself to a beer as he spoke. He flicked the cap, not paying attention to where it flew. Castiel noticed.

“You’re going to pick that up, right?” he said flatly as he reached in to the box for a slice of pizza. At least Gabriel had left the olives off this time.

 

Castiel fell asleep on the couch again. He didn’t mean to, but it’s just one of those things that happen when you’re sick. Gabriel left around nine for another Friday night at a club (naturally), and Cas didn’t remember much after that. He woke to Dean shaking his shoulder gently. Whatever they’d been watching on TV was over, the pizza box long empty and the beer bottles drained. Dean had turned off most of the lights in the apartment.

“What time is it?” Cas asked. He sat up slowly and scrubbed a lazy hand through his hair. Dean looked pretty tired, he decided. A full day of taking care of invalid Castiel must be rather draining.

“Just about eleven. You conked out again. I thought I should make sure you actually made it to bed before I went home.” He smiled warmly and offered Cas an outstretched hand.

“Do you have to go?” The words felt brazen as they fell out of his mouth. Castiel didn’t mean to be so forward. Maybe he was feeling better after such a restful day, or maybe he was slightly feverish and it was muddling his brain.

“It’s pretty late, Cas. Don’t you want to go to bed? I mean I know you’ve slept most of the day but you probably still need rest.”

“I thought you could come with me, maybe.” Cas murmured. “I mean it’s not…if you wanted…we don’t have to…nevermind.” He trailed off, regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Awkward. He stared pointedly at his bare feet, wiggling his cold toes against the floor for a moment before turning to grab his blanket off the couch. Castiel made it one, two, three steps towards the bedroom before a hand on his arm stopped his progress. Dean spun him around wordlessly, and Cas was so startled that he dropped the blanket as Dean’s arms wrapped him up. Their lips crashed together in a heated kiss. Castiel let his hands find Dean’s hips and he steadied himself against the other man, pressing their hips together. Dean pulled away breathlessly and when he spoke, his voice was low and soft, barely above a whisper.

“You sure you’re up for it? You’re not going to get dizzy and pass out on me are you? ‘Cause that’s a serious mood killer.”

“I hadn’t exactly thought about it.” He hadn’t, and it was a logical question, but Castiel wasn’t currently concerned with logic. Right now, he just _wanted_. He dipped down to grab the discarded blanket before walking slowly towards the bedroom, sparing a brief glance to make sure Dean followed. The blanket got dropped at the foot of the bed, freeing Cas’s hands up to remove his tee-shirt. He felt Dean’s hands settle on his hips and they were warm and solid against his skin. Castiel covered them with his own hands as he leaned back in to Dean, moving the hands to encircle him, pressing one to his belly and one to his chest. Dean ducked his head to plant gentle kisses on the side of Cas’s neck. They stood motionless for a moment, just the little sensation of kisses and the warmth of hands, before Castiel felt Dean nudging him forward. He was reluctant to break contact but he stepped away, climbed on to the bed and reclined on his side to watch Dean. He was a thing of beauty, this tall man with the green eyes. Castiel watched hungrily as Dean undressed before him for the second time that day. Dean’s movements were quick and utilitarian. He didn’t drag it out to make a show of things, but rather stripped down to his boxer-briefs with an economy of motion and climbed on to bed beside Castiel with no preamble.

Dean settled himself as close to Castiel as he could get, pushing gently on his shoulder to lay his back against the mattress. His thumb caressed the line of Castiel’s jaw as their lips met in a deep and passionate kiss. Dean’s tongue flicked across Castiel’s lips teasingly before plunging back in to lap at his mouth. For a time, there was nothing but that kiss. Dean contolled the speed, the pressure, everything, and Castiel just floated along with him, loving every single touch. Dean kissed Castiel deeply, and Castiel surged up to meet his kisses with equal fervor. Dean kissed Castiel gently, their lips just barely brushing, and Castiel let slip breathy moans and ghosted his hands up the side of Dean’s ribs. And somewhere along the way, things shifted, and Dean’s knee found its was between Castiel’s thighs. Dean’s hips rolled against his, a lazy motion, but it brought a flush to Castiel’s face.

“I don’t understand why you’re still wearing these,” Dean muttered against his neck, peppering it with soft kisses from his ear to his shoulder. The fingers of Dean’s free hand, the one not supporting his weight, danced over Cas’s torso to play at the waistband of his shorts. They dipped below the elastic for just a moment, hinting at things to come, then slipped back out to graze gently over the skin below his navel. Castiel shuddered at the sensation.

“You should probably take them off, then. They’ll only get in the way,” Castiel replied, and he was startled he was still able to speak. Dean had a way of reducing him to incoherent muttering even when they were fully clothed. This was next to torture.

“As you wish,” Dean hummed. He kissed his way across Castiel’s collar bone before trailing lower to take a pert, pink nipple between his lips. Cas gasped as Dean’s teeth dragged across the nipple, just short of pain but still a pleasant shock. He flicked and circled his tongue over the nub, nipped and licked, sucked at it with those perfect lips, and Castiel made a noise somewhere between a moan and a laugh. When Dean’s lips pulled away, he huffed a breath over the wet nipple, and the startling chill drew another gasp from Castiel. And then Dean’s hands were teasing at the waistband of his shorts again, brushing against the sharp angle of his hipbones and the soft trail of hair that led to his achingly hard cock.

Castiel lifted his hips to allow Dean to drag the fabric off slowly. The garment finally discarded, Dean took Cas in hand and stroked him with a loose hand. Cas’s hips rocked up of their own accord, searching for friction.

“Hey, slow down,” Dean murmured softly. “Let me take care of you. There’s no rush.” Castiel stilled his hips. Or at least he tried to. It was hard to keep entirely still when Dean’s thumb flicked over the head of his cock, and it was nearly impossible when Dean sank down to take Castiel in his mouth. It started with just his tongue, dragging slowly and gently up the shaft. Dean took his time licking all over, leaving wet stripes in his wake. Castiel twitched in approval, still struggling to keep his hips steady. When he finally took the head between his lips and slid down slowly, Castiel cried out. He was no longer certain he could maintain any kind of composure.

Dean took Castiel’s cock as deep as he could go, dragging his tongue along the underside as he sank down, his lips tight around the shaft as he drew up to tease at the tip. He moved without rhythm; Castiel could never predict what he was going to do next. It thrilled him to become so helpless in Dean’s hands. Before long, Castiel found himself light-headed and wrecked. His breath came in ragged gasps and he’d stopped trying to stay still. Dean controlled his hips with a strong arm, but the effect he was having on Cas was obvious. When Castiel thought he couldn’t handle anymore, when he thought he was mere seconds from orgasm, Dean withdrew the wet heat of his mouth and wrapped a loose hand around his cock. Even in the dim moonlight, Castiel could see the flush on his cheeks and the lust in his eyes.

“You still with me, Cas?” He asked, but Castiel knew he meant ‘if I fuck you, are you going to pass out?’ Castiel nodded, urged him on, but when Dean didn’t move, he replied with a breathy whisper.

“Yes, Dean, please, yes.” And Dean stared at him for a long moment, maybe just drinking in the sight of him, wrecked and wanting and writhing with desire on the bed beneath him, maybe searching for a hint that Cas was too tired to handle it. If it was the latter, he must have seen something that satisfied his question, because he reached over into Castiel’s nightstand and grabbed the lube, and in mere moments there was a slick, wet finger nudging insistently at Castiel’s ass. He flinched at the intrusion initially before relaxing into it. Dean worked him open gently but quickly, knowing how much Castiel wanted, knowing how much _he_ wanted, and if Castiel was a moaning wreck before, he was completely senseless now. By the time Dean fit the third finger in, Castiel’s head was thrown back and his hands fisted in the sheets, and his panting moans echoed off the walls of the bedroom.

Dean slipped his fingers out and rolled a condom on to his own neglected cock, slicking it up with more lube before fitting himself to Castiel. He pushed in slowly, so slowly, dragging it out for eons before he finally bottomed out with his hips pressed against Castiel’s thighs. When he began to move, it was with slow shallow strokes. Castiel whimpered softly as Dean leaned down to claim his mouth in another kiss. They moved in sync; Castiel’s hips rose to meet Dean’s on each thrust, their bodies touched everywhere they could manage. Cas had been on the edge before, but now the slow build began anew. Each slow measured thrust, each tender kiss, each of a thousand different ways their bodies touched brought him crawling closer and closer to climax until Castiel cried out in the throes of ecstasy. He clung to Dean as it ripped through him, loving the wet kisses Dean pressed to his mouth, his neck, his shoulders. His pace quickened slightly. Before long, Dean’s rhythm faltered. He was much quieter than Castiel when he came but the look on his face said plenty. Then Dean kissed Castiel again; short, sweet pecks to the lips were all they could manage with their breath gone shallow from exhaustion. Dean lay himself down behind Castiel and held him close.

“Hey Cas,” Dean mumbled in the darkness. Castiel felt the breath of Dean’s words on the back of his neck as he spoke.

“Yeah, Dean?” Castiel replied sleepily. He could already feel himself drifting off.

“I promise I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took me so long to get posted!! I've been working on a few other projects and also I had a spectacular night in with my bestie so my schedule got a little thrown off. The next chapter will be posted on a decidedly faster timeline!
> 
> This chapter features some actual plot progression but also a significant quantity of smut, so consider that my apology for the delay! As always, lemme know what you think in the comments, I'm always open to feedback unless you're a dick in which case cram it with walnuts. <3

When Castiel blinked his way into bleary consciousness on Saturday morning, Dean was tucked under the blankets beside him with his arms wrapped around Cas’s body. Despite still feeling sick, Cas couldn’t help but smile. Dean kept his promise. It was, he decided, the best Saturday morning he’d experienced in a long while. He snuggled back under the blankets, fully intent on falling back asleep but the movement was enough to draw Dean out of his not so deep slumber.

“Morning,” Dean cooed, tugging Cas in closer and pressing soft kisses to his cheek.

“Hmmm Good Morning,” Cas replied. “You’re still here.”

“I promised, didn’t I? How ya feeling?”

“Better than yesterday? Not great, but less awful.”

“So you’re going to be less of a brat today then?” Castiel yawned and stretched, pointedly ignoring Dean’s mockery.

“Maybe. I kind of like having you take such good care of me. I might milk it a little longer.” He pouted a little for good measure and his petulance was rewarded when Dean leaned in and captured his pout in a tender kiss. Cas hummed and dragged his hand down to palm at Dean’s ass. He’d managed to slip his underwear on after the previous night’s activities but hadn’t bothered to go much further. Castiel relished the press of Dean’s bare chest against his own. He missed the shared warmth of waking up with someone, Castiel realized.

Dean’s hand wandered as they kissed. He had a fondness for the strength of Castiel’s shoulders, the taut muscles of his back. Cas found himself melting under that reverent touch. Dean deepened the kiss, moving from something soft and tender into a much more heated exchange. His lips were persistent against Castiel’s mouth, his tongue darting out to tease and probe, and soon Cas found himself on his back, pressed to the mattress with Dean’s weight pinning him. He didn’t resist in the slightest when Dean’s hand roamed over his bare chest. His arched into the sensation when Dean’s thumb grazed over a nipple, but even so he was surprised when the roving hand dipped below the waistband of his underwear to grasp his half-hard dick.

Dean didn’t wait for a response from Castiel before moving down his body, dragging Cas’s shorts down with him. It didn’t take long for Cas’s body to respond to the touch. Dean stroked him slowly but firmly, sliding his thumb across the glistening head until Cas was at full attention. And then with his eyes fixed on Cas’s, he sank down and slid his lips over the head of Castiel’s cock. Dean set a languid pace with his lips and with his hand. He hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, drawing soft moans from Castiel’s lips, then pulled his mouth off to lick at the length playfully. Then he took Cas in his mouth again, sliding his perfect lips up and down the slick shaft oh so slowly. Cas gripped the sheets with one hand and tangled the fingers of the other in Dean’s hair. He knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate.

Dean seemed to take the hand in his hair as encouragement. He began to move more quickly, adding a twist to the motion of his hand and letting his tongue play at the tip of Cas’s throbbing cock each time he moved up. Cas groaned his appreciation.

“Dean….” He whined. “Oh god Dean…I’m…I’m gonna…” and just like that, he was spilling down Dean’s throat, and Dean sucked him harder, coaxing every last drop he could get out of Castiel’s orgasm. He shuddered in pleasure as Dean pulled off, lapping at the tip of Cas’s cock before kissing his way back up to press those lips to Castiel’s own mouth. Cas could taste himself on Dean’s tongue as they kissed fiercely, could feel Dean’s hard cock pressing into his thigh as Dean’s hips ground against him.

Castiel snaked a hand between their bodies, sliding inside Dean’s shorts to palm at his cock. Castiel barely moved as he grasped it, letting the movement of Dean’s hips thrust his thick cock through the circle of his hand. He felt Dean tense and a second later he came silently. Castiel’s hand came away sticky, but he couldn’t find the motivation to care.

 

 

Castiel arrived at work earlier than usual on Monday. He was painfully aware that he now had exactly one week until he’d be leading the morning meeting and the thought sent hot spikes of dread through every nerve in his body. Charlie maintained that he was over-reacting, that he’d be fine, that he was totally going to rock it, but all Castiel could think about was how panicked and terrified he felt standing in front of a group of people, and how all his past attempts at public speaking had led to embarrassment or failure. He wasn’t entirely certain where Zachariah had gotten the idea that Castiel should be trusted with this responsibility, but that trust made everything worse. His boss, as weird as the guy might be, had placed his faith in Castiel, and he couldn’t let him down.

He took a place near the head of the long table in the boardroom, setting his notepad and his favourite pen down on the table. Castiel’s idea today was to pay attention to his co-workers. He didn’t need Zach’s presentation to gain an understanding of the data, so he had concluded that today would be a good opportunity to observe their behaviour. The five other members of the department trickled in slowly as the clock crept closer to the nine o’clock meeting time. One by one they filed in, filling paper cups with substandard coffee, picking up boring donuts and settling in to their seats. That’s the first change Castiel planned to make. No one liked the coffee, he knew that. Zachariah didn’t even drink it himself when he brought the stuff in. It was actually worse than the coffee brewed in the lunch room, but it was kind of a tradition. Castiel meant to break it. Zachariah called the meeting to order and the room settled.

“Welcome team. As you might know, myself and the senior leadership team will be out of office for all of next week. The leadership development conference at head office is a huge undertaking and we appreciate your dedication to keeping up the normal functionality of the office during this disruption to your normal routines. Since I will not be present next week, nor will the rest of the senior team members, I’ve asked Castiel to lead the meeting in my absence.” Castiel tried to keep his hands steady as five sets of eyes settled on him, weighing and measuring. He knew he wasn’t seen as a leader on his team. He was barely seen at all, as far as he knew. His paperwork spoke for itself so he rarely had need to. They were taken by surprise by Zachariah’s announcement. “Castiel has proven himself to be a capable and intelligent analyst and I know that he will be able to bring a unique perspective to the data covered in next week’s meeting. Please show him the same level of respect you show me during these meetings. He’ll be collecting presentation analysis from each of you at the end of the meeting, and I look forward to hearing your feedback when I return from New York.”

A soft murmur ran through the room, which Castiel tried to ignore. He wished he had longer than a week to prepare for this meeting. He felt like he needed a lifetime.

 

 

Tuesday evening, Dean’s brother called. He felt a pang of guilt as he checked the caller ID. He hadn’t talked to Sam in a couple weeks and he knew it made him a bit of an asshole. But the kid was away at college. His life was busy with classes and papers and homework and exams and whatever social life he could manage. Dean missed Sam but he had to let him live his life.

“Hey Sammy,” he said with a smile as he answered the phone. “How’s the college life?”

“Um, you know, it’s challenging. How have you been? I haven’t talked to you in weeks! You still working with Bobby?” Yup. Definitely guilt.

“Yeah, yeah I’m still at the garage. Life’s good. Not too busy I’m happy.”  
“That’s great Dean. So what’s his name?” Dean laughed softly at his brother’s blunt question.

“What makes you think I’m seeing someone?”

“Because you haven’t called me in three weeks, and you never go that long without checking in. And you said you’re happy, and for once I actually believe you. You actually _sound_ happy. So I ask again. What’s his name?” Sam was too smart for his own good some times, Dean decided. He was too good for Dean’s own good, come to think of it.

“It’s Castiel,” he replied with an exasperated sigh. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk about Cas. It’s just that it was all so new and he still felt a bit nervous about the whole thing. He’d only had a couple of dates with Cas and with their unconventional meeting Dean still wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to go and fuck it up somehow. “Just met him a few weeks ago. He’s…different.”

“Define different,” Sam said flatly. “Weird hipster different? Does he wear socks and sandals? Pet spiders? Is he one of those raw vegans?” Dean laughed. Sam knew he would never date someone who wouldn’t eat a damn cheeseburger.

“Like nerdy accountant different? He’s just…I don’t know Sammy. He’s good for me, I think. I can’t describe it.” Dean dragged a hand through his hair as he spoke. He’d never been good at articulating these things.

“Well since you’re doing such a shitty job of expressing yourself, as per usual, I suppose I’ll have to form my own opinions. I was thinking I might come spend Spring Break with you next month, if you’ll let me crash on your couch?

“Yeah that’d be great! I’ll take some time off work, it’ll be awesome!” Dean exclaimed.

“Great. And you can invite this Castiel over for dinner one night. I’d love to meet him.” Dean froze.

“We’ll see Sam,” he replied slowly. “That’s a whole month away. I just met the guy. I don’t think it’s meet the family time yet. I mean he might not even put up with me that long” Sam acknowledged his brother’s apprehension curtly.

“Sure thing Dean. Whatever you say.” With that out of the way, Sam began to talk about his classes. He was excelling, naturally. Sam was always such a smart kid. Dean felt a swell of pride as Sam spoke about his grade on a paper he’d just gotten back that afternoon. John would have been proud too, he assured Sam. John and Mary both, if either of them knew.

“I’m glad you’re coming to visit, Sam. I really am.” Dean said with a smile on his face and lightness in his voice. He hoped Sam knew how much he meant it.

 

“Charlie, I don’t think it matters which suit I wear. It’s a meeting, not a red-carpet gala.” Cas breathed out an exasperated sigh as Charlie pawed through his closet once again. He couldn’t argue that her choices had been appropriate when it came to his date with Dean a few weeks prior, but this wasn’t a date. No one was going to care what he wore. But Thursday had been Zachariah’s last day in the office before leaving for New York, which meant that Castiel could no longer tell himself that backing out of the presentation was an option.

“Yes, Cas, it does matter. You want them to see you as a leader even before you start speaking. Appearances are important. What you wear says a lot about you. If you wear a suit that doesn’t fit well, you look sloppy, and it says that your work is sloppy. It doesn’t matter if its not true, that’s what people will see. Do you have a three-piece?”

“What? No. Why would I have a three-piece suit?   I’ll just wear the blue one.”

“Eww, no!” Charlie cried. “You will not wear the blue one. In fact, you should never wear the blue one. It fits like you bought it at a thrift store. The pants are too long and the jacket hangs off your shoulders and it looks lazy!”  
“Ugh, I don’t know why I’m taking your advice on this. You wear jeans and video game tee-shirts to work. What do you know about dressing professionally?”

“I wear what I wear to work because it says exactly what I want it to say about my work. It says ‘I am the hacker queen. I am so goddamned good at my job that no one dares question my dress code, because I could single-handedly destroy your entire file system and you’d never recover even a fraction of the data. And I am the reason, the ONLY reason, that you survived the attack on your systems last year when your proprietary data and design schematics almost got leaked to the web for everyone to pirate. So don’t you forget it.’ So yeah, I wear geek shirts to the office, and I will continue to do so as long as I am the head bitch in charge of IT security. Don’t you forget it.” Charlie flashed him a bitchy smile over her shoulder. “Ah. Here we go.” She exclaimed as she pulled his dark grey suit out of the closet. “Wear this one.”

“Sure. Whatever. It’s just a suit.” Castiel was saved from further conversation about his wardrobe choices by a knock at the door. He ducked quickly out of the room, grateful for Dean’s arrival and not just as a rescue from Charlie’s fashion advice. He couldn’t deny the way his heart lifted when he opened the door to see Dean standing there in jeans and a tee-shirt, leather jacket hanging over one arm. His smile was wide and warm.

“Hey Cas,” he said as he walked in. Charlie came out of the bedroom with Castiel’s grey suit in one hand and several ties in the other.

“Dean, just in time. Cas doesn’t think it matters which suit he wears. Help me pick out a tie. The red and blue striped one, or the green? Or maybe the paisley one?”

“I like the red and blue,” Dean agreed, reaching for the tie and holding it up beside Cas’s face. “It goes with his eyes.” Castiel blushed.

“I still don’t see why it matters,” he grumbled, but took the tie anyway, draping it around his neck.

“Just trust me, Castiel. It matters,” Charlie smiled, handing him the suit. “Ok the pizza will be here in a few minutes. You go put on your suit, we’ll eat, and then you can take us through your presentation. You’re gonna do awesome, Cas. Don’t worry about it.” As the bedroom door clicked shut behind him Charlie turned to Dean, who was hanging his coat on a hook by the door.

“So um…no hard feelings?” She asked sheepishly.

“Hard feelings about what?”

“That whole thing where I threatened you and refused to give you Cas’s number and basically assumed you were the worst kind of person? You know, that?” The smile she gave him was apologetic.

“Hey, you know what, it worked out OK, so don’t worry about it,” Dean smiled warmly and pulled her in to a hug. “You were just looking out for Cas, I can’t fault you for that.” Cas came out of the bedroom just as he released Charlie.

“Lookin' good Cas,” he said with a whistle. Castiel rolled his eyes.

“I wear suits to work every day. This isn’t anything special.”

“The whole point is to do a dress rehearsal, Cas. Wear the suit, do the presentation. You’ll be less nervous on Monday.” Charlie straightened his tie and patted him on the shoulder. “No how does your boss usually do the thing? Why do you think it doesn’t work? What are you doing differently?” The pizza showed up as she finished speaking. When Dean returned from paying the kid, they sat at the kitchen table with the food.

“Usually, he just talks. It is incredibly boring. The entirety of the meeting is Zachariah speaking, reading notes off a report. It’s a complete waste of time. We spend two solid hours listening to him reciting the reports and then I end up spending another hour with the raw data because he makes it so incredibly dry I retain nothing. I’ve prepared a much shorter version with slides and concise literature for distribution.” Castiel beamed as he explained his approach. He was practically smug.

“And better coffee,” Dean chimed in.

“Yes. Better coffee. I suppose it qualifies as somewhat of a bribe but I’m certainly not too proud to curry good favour with my co-workers.”

Without further preamble, Castiel started up the slideshow on his laptop. As he launched in to his presentation his face was animated. Dean appreciated the passion. Castiel was a guarded guy but when he let his walls down, when he let his passion show, his face warmed and his eyes blazed. His voice lifted, although it still carried that rough gravely texture that Dean loved so much. Now it was raw and loud and clear. He lost the tendency to cast his eyes downwards when he spoke in passion. Lost the quiet resolve and the apprehension and all those little things that made him shy away from the center of attention. And when he spoke, Dean couldn’t help but listen. He didn’t understand half of what Cas was talking about. What the hell did a mechanic know about sales margins and growth percentage and profit flow-through? But he could tell that Cas understood what he was conveying with firm certainty. He shone in his neatly pressed suit and the tie that brought out the blue in his eyes. Dean listened with rapt attention to the entirety of his presentation,

“And then here,” Castiel concluded, “I’ll ask if there are questions, and then I’ll open it up to the team to discuss the analysis.” Now that the flurry of numerical data was over, Castiel calmed and the anxious tone came back in to his voice. “What did you think? Too many slides right? I should try to cut out one or two. Or maybe the graphs are too hard to read on the screen. I should simplify. I should try to…” Charlie cut him off.

“Cas stop! You did great! I didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about half the time but that’s still 50% more than I understood when I looked at your raw data.” She left her chair and clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly. Dean just beamed.

“Just do exactly what you did here in your meeting on Monday. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“You think so?” Castiel asked, blushing slightly. One day, Dean was going to have to teach him how to take a compliment.

“I know it,” he replied with a smile.

“Ok well, um, since our little business tycoon is all set here, I think I’m gonna call it a night. If I hurry home I can still get in on the world boss my guild is going after. Gotta get my raid on!” Charlie grabbed her jacket and made her way out the door, beaming. Dean didn’t understand half of the things she said, either.

“Well,” Castiel said awkwardly as the door clicked shut behind Charlie. “I suppose you have things you need to get back to as well. I really appreciate your help with this presentation. Thank you.” Castiel’s eyes were downcast again. Dean already missed the fire that had been behind them when he spoke.

“Nowhere I’d rather be than here,” Dean replied as he moved toward Castiel casually. His hands slipped beneath Cas’s suit jacket and settled on his hips. “Unless that’s your subtle way of telling me to go home?” Dean could feel the warmth of Cas through his dress shirt, could smell his cologne beneath the lingering scent of pizza that rose as much from Dean himself as it did from Cas. He’d go home if that was what Castiel really wanted, but he seriously hoped it didn’t come to that. Dean wasn’t kidding when he said that tie brought out Cas’s eyes and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about the way those pants hugged the curve of his perfect ass since the moment put them on. Instead of answering, Castiel kissed him. His lips were slightly chapped as they brushed against Dean’s almost hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure Dean was going to kiss him back. Dean took the initiative to disabuse him of that notion.

Castiel became such a different animal when Dean kissed him. All of the hesitance bled away when Dean’s tongue teased at the seam of his lips, begging entrance. He granted it hungrily and Dean kissed him fiercely, roughly, letting Castiel know with lips and teeth and tongue how much he wanted to be nowhere else than this. One of his hands found its way up to grip the back of Castiel’s neck. Dean held him tightly as their lips crashed together. Castiel moaned low in his throat and through the fabric of his slacks, Dean could feel the smaller man’s erection pressed against his hip. He drew back to look at Cas for a moment, to take in the gorgeous flush on his cheeks and his pupils blown wide with lust and the bruised red of his lips. Castiel drew a ragged breath as soon as his lips were free.

“I think,” he intoned, barely above a whisper, that gravely voice making it nearly a growl. “If I am to wear this suit on Monday, I should probably get out of it soon. I doubt I’ll have time to get it dry-cleaned before then.” Dean couldn’t help but agree. He released Castiel from his arms and let his fingers work at untying the tidy knot at Castiel’s throat.

“I like this tie,” he murmured as it came loose to dangle along Cas’s lapels. “And this suit.” He was careful as he opened the buttons on Castiel’s shirt, beginning at the throat and working his way down. Each button he opened was followed with a soft kiss until he was crouched low and his lips were pressed just above the buckle of Cas’s belt.

“Dean,” Castiel warned, but his voice carried very little threat.

“What? I’m helping you out of your suit. Totally altruistic motives.” His fingers teased at the soft skin just about Cas’s pants as he spoke. Dean smiled at the tiny gasp Cas gave up in response, but hands darted out to grab his wrists when he moved to unbuckle Cas’s belt.

“Dean. Bedroom. _Now._ ” He glanced up to take in the wrecked look on Castiel’s face. How could he say no to that face? Dean’s hands slid against warm skin under Cas’s now-open shirt as he stood back up.

“After you,” Dean gestured towards the bedroom, waiting just until Castiel turned around to plant a firm smack on his ass as he walked away. Cas yelped and turned to glare at Dean, but he didn’t actually complain. Dean filed that piece of info away for later. Castiel slipped his blazer off as he walked, replacing it on its hanger as soon as he reached the bedroom. He unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt but Dean followed close behind him and pushed it off his shoulders, letting the tips of his fingers drag down Cas’s strong shoulders.

Castiel reached to free himself from his pants, but he froze in the middle of the motion as Dean’s mouth closed around his nipple.

“You’re incredibly distracting,” Cas accused.

“Isn’t this what we came here for? What exactly am I distracting you from?” Dean darted his tongue out to flick at the other nipple and Castiel gasped in response.

“You need to let me hang my suit up,” Cas insisted. Dean pouted, but he complied. Castiel’s hands, no longer impeded by the rush of desire he felt at every touch Dean left on his skin, made quick work of his belt. “You could use this time to undress yourself and get in my bed, you know.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. In the time it took Castiel to remove his pants and hang them carefully in his closet Dean hurriedly tossed off his shirt, dropped his jeans and stepped out of them, and tugged off his boxer-shorts. He was just dropping his socks in a pile with the rest of his clothing when Castiel turned back around. His own underwear was quickly abandoned as he watched Dean climb on to the bed and recline himself against the pillows.

Castiel’s touch was firm as he settled in beside Dean on the bed, his fingers wasting no time wrapping around Dean’s already hard cock. Dean’s hips joined in the motion, rocking harshly upwards as Cas’s thumb swiped through the precome beading at the tip. Each rough stroke stoked the fire in Dean’s belly until he thought he might burn up just from Cas’s touch. His low moans drove Castiel wile, his own hips grinding, seeking friction.

“Cas,” Dean whimpered. “Need you.” He threw an arm out to grope blindly at the nightstand for lube. Castiel tensed at the first cold touch against the little pink pucker of muscle but soon he was writhing on the bed, opening up for Dean. He couldn’t help the sounds that fell from his lips as Dean slipped in first one finger, then another, and by the time Dean thrust in a third he was practically incoherent.

“You have no idea what it does to me, watching you fall apart like that,” Dean murmured, smoothing his free hand down the inside of Cas’s thigh as he thrust roughly against Cas’s prostate. Castiel’s strangled cry broke through the night. “I want you,” Dean’s voice was dark with lust as he spoke. “Want you on my dick. Wanna make you come so hard you can’t see straight.”

“Fuck, Dean! Please!” Castiel practically howled as he rocked his hips back, fucking himself on Dean’s fingers. He whined as Dean withdrew, rolling on his back beside Cas.

“Like this,” he instructed, pulling Cas over until he was straddling Dean’s hips. Cas reached into the drawer and retrieved a condom, stilling himself just long enough to roll it on to Dean’s cock and give it a few encouraging strokes before lifting himself up and fitting the hard shaft to his hole. Dean groaned as Cas slid down on to his cock. The tight wet heat enveloped him and the sigh that Cas let out as he bottomed out was just….Fuck.

Cas began to roll his hips experimentally, rocking up and grinding down and throwing in a little swivel that threatened to implode Dean’s brain. Each roll of his hips was harder, rougher, more demanding than the last, until Cas was slamming himself down on Dean’s hips, taking his cock in up to the hilt and practically screaming out his pleasure. Dean loved every fucking second of it. Cas leaned over to brace himself on the headboard and Dean took the opportunity to trap his lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He breathed, his lips dragging wetly across Castiel’s collar bone. Dean slid a hand down Cas’s sweat-slick chest to grasp his dick, achingly hard and trapped between their abdomens. And if he thought he loved Cas’s noises before, well, he didn’t know what he was missing. Cas let out a string of profanity, coming hard almost the second Dean touched him. Dean planted his hips and thrust up in to Castiel as he rode out his orgasm, moaning and crying out Dean’s name and abandoning any trace of the shy, reserved man he’d been earlier in the evening.

Dean’s own orgasm crashed in to him as he slammed in to Castiel. His hips bucked and stuttered as he gripped the other man tight. He thrust once more, seeing stars, and let Castiel collapse on the bed beside him.

“I’ll have you know,” Castiel said breathlessly. “I definitely cannot see straight at present.”  
“Good,” Dean murmured in to the crook of his neck. “Then you’re not going anywhere.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Petrichor_Amber has convinced me to do a modified NaNoWriMo this year, which means I should be cranking out chapters of this particular work at a much faster rate over the next little while. Hope you enjoy!

When Castiel woke up Monday morning, he was loathe to leave the warmth of Dean’s arms. He’d tried to deflect Dean’s suggestion that he stay the night, that he wanted to send him off for the big presentation in a good mood, but Dean had insisted. Castiel wasn’t sure why he resisted. He supposed he just didn’t want to feel like a burden, an imposition. He still couldn’t believe Dean found him worthy of his attention, of his time. Here was this gorgeous, charismatic man, this man could have his pick of companions, and he chose Castiel. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Dean grumbled and pulled Cas closer when his alarm went off.

“It can’t possibly be morning yet,” muttered Dean. “It’s a cruel dream, right? We still get to sleep?”

“Unfortunately, no, and I can’t stay in bed another minute. I have to pick up coffee and pastries, and I want to be at the office before any of my colleagues can make it to the board room.” Castiel sighed. He really would rather stay here with Dean.

“If you give me fifteen more minutes, I’ll drive you,” Dean bargained, leaning in to stop Cas from answering too quickly with a slow gentle kiss. Cas pondered for a moment as he let Dean’s warmth seep into his flesh. It was unreasonably cold outside the blankets, he had to admit, and picking up coffee and treats would be so much easier in the Impala than it would be on foot.

“You drive a hard bargain, Winchester,” Cas mumbled, and Dean laughed softly. “Fine, fifteen minutes. But I’m setting my alarm and I’m getting in the shower the second it goes off. No more negotiating.”

“Ooh, Cas, I love it when you get all bossy like that,” Dean teased, sliding a hand down to palm at Cas’ ass through his boxers. His movements were sleepy and languid as he held Cas close, their lips meeting again without any real urgency. Cas made noises of contentment as he leaned in to the kiss but kept it soft. If he let himself be drawn into anything more intense, he’d never be able to drag himself out of bed. Dean could be rather…persuasive when he wanted to. But as they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms and lips locked, Castiel began to realize that there was no insistence behind Dean’s actions. His hand still rested on Cas’ ass and there was certainly passion in his kisses, but he didn’t move to escalate their activities. The hard swell pressed against Cas’ leg made it obvious that he wanted to, though. As if reading his mind, Dean pulled away to nuzzle at Cas’ throat and spoke soft words in his ear.

“I could lay here with you like this forever. We don’t even need to do anything else. It’s enough just to hold you, you know?” Cas blushed, his mind questing for an appropriate response. “Hey,” Dean interjected, and Cas realized he’d gone tense. “I mean it. This is nice, just being here like this, ok?”

“Yeah,” Cas murmured. He knew Dean was being sincere, he just didn’t comprehend how it could be true. He was rescued from further conversation on the subject by his alarm clock, blaring out the time sooner than expected and jolting both men to full alertness.

“How has it possibly been fifteen minutes already?” Dean complained. “I don’t wanna get up!”

“Well you don’t have to, not right this minute. I’m going to take a shower, you can stay in bed until I’m done.”  
“Or I could join you?” Dean suggested with a hint of mischief in his tone.

“No.” Cas was firm on this point. “If I let you get in the shower with me, there’s no way I’ll make it to work on time. Absolutely not.”

“Fine,” Dean pouted, cocooning himself in the blankets as Cas extricated himself from the bed. “But next time I see you we’re making up for this.” Cas shot him a look. “I mean, you know. If you want to.”

“Dean, you know I do. This has nothing to do with not wanting to. But I am absolutely terrified about this thing at work today, and I can’t afford to be late because I couldn’t keep my hands off of you.

“Well as long as that’s all,” Dean’s voice was muffled by the blankets he’d drawn up over his head, hiding himself from the cold and the morning light. “Go. Shower. You’re gonna rock this shit.”

 

Castiel straightened his tie for the forty-thousandth time and checked his watch. It was a fancy timepiece that he rarely wore, but Charlie had spotted it on his dresser in the middle of a tirade about how it was offensive that he didn’t own a tie clip and insisted that it was the perfect accessory. He was tired of feeling like a doll, there for her to play dress up with so he’d agreed without a fight, but now that he was in the board room waiting for his meeting to start, he had to admit that she was right on all her choices. The grey suit fit much nicer than the blue one he’d originally planned to wear, and the tie she and Dean had chosen looked sharp, and yes, even the watch was the right choice. Castiel glanced around the room once more. His handouts were set neatly in front of each seat at the table just as they had been the last five times he’d run though his mental checklist. The coffee and cups were right where Zachariah would usually place them, but instead of terrible coffee from some chain, he’d picked up a take-away package from a place he knew many of his co-workers frequented. Instead of mass-produced donuts, he’d opted for fresh danishes from the bakery he’d met Charlie at the first time they’d met up, remembering how fantastic they’d tasted and knowing his co-workers would appreciate the quality. His presentation was queued up and he’d double, triple, quadruple and quintuple checked that the projector was set up properly and that he wouldn’t have to do any technical troubleshooting when the meeting was set to start. Aside from the heavy knot in the pit of his stomach, he was totally and completely ready for this.

 

At one minute to nine his co-workers began to file in to the room. As they entered, some bleary eyed and some alert and well rested from the weekend, each one showed a visible reaction to his coffee choices. He received a couple of tight smiles, heard a couple of relieved sighs, and the last to enter, an insufferable know-it-all that Castiel chose not to associate with whenever he could get away with it muttered an appreciative ‘Oh Thank God’ under his breath as he filled a cup with the stuff. The danishes received much the same response, and Castiel was happy he’d decided to buy enough to allow for two each.

 

Suddenly he realized that all his co-workers had taken their seats and there were five sets of eyes watching him expectantly, waiting for him to call the meeting to order. He drew a deep calming breath, tried to keep his hands from shaking, and began to speak.

“Good morning,” his voice rang out, clear and steady, much more calm than he felt. “As you recall from last week, I’ll be facilitating this meeting in Zachariah’s absence this week. I’ve distributed an abridged version of the data we’ll be covering, please feel free to take notes as you see fit as we move through the presentation. I’ve made some significant alterations to the format you’re all used to,” a murmur ran through the room at this note. Castiel suspected it was relief; he didn’t believe any of them enjoyed Zachariah’s dry formatting any more than he did. “and as such, we will be having a considerably shorter meeting than usual, but we will still cover all the same subject matter that is normally addressed in these meetings. Please feel free to present any questions you have as we move through. At the end of the presentation, I’ll be asking you to complete an assessment of my performance for Zachariah’s review. I ask that you be constructive and honest, but I also hope that you let the superior coffee I’ve bribed you with colour your impressions. In fact, I’m banking on it.” He paused for the small laugh he received from the other accountants at that moment. Dean had insisted he throw the joke in. Said even math nerds needed to laugh once in a while.

“Now if you’ll turn your attention to the projection, you’ll see a graph depicting the performance of our major holdings during the fourth quarter as compared to projected growth and past performance. The summary data is reflected on the first page of the document in front of you. Can someone please get the lights?” Castiel tried to remember the calm he’d felt when he gave this same presentation to Charlie and Dean the week before. He could do this. At least, he hoped he could.

 

Dean frowned at his phone. Castiel should have been finished his presentation by now. He had been sure Cas would text him or call him or _something_ to let him know how it had gone. Cas had been so worked up about this thing for weeks. Dean knew it was a huge deal, and he’d tried to be supportive and encouraging. He couldn’t understand why Cas hadn’t let him know how it had gone. He ate the last bite of his sandwich and moved to tuck his phone back in the pocket of his coveralls when if vibrated in his hand. There was no point in pretending he wasn’t incredibly eager to hear from his…what was Castiel anyway? The guy he was dating? Extended one-night stand? Boyfriend? Lover? He dismissed the last one out of hand. Sounded way too awkward. The message wasn’t from Cas though and Dean tried to temper his disappointment.

 

_So you too busy banging that accountant to have a beer with your old friend Pam?_

Dean rolled his eyes, but that’s exactly the kind of thing Dean would say in her position so he let it slide. He hadn’t seen Pam since the night he met Cas, and it had been almost a year since their paths crossed before that, so yeah, why not. Beers. He texted her a location, said he’d meet her at 6. Still disappointed that he hadn’t heard from Cas, Dean sent him a message too.

 

_Hope your presentation was awesome. We should have dinner one night this week._

 

Castiel reached in to the pocket of his trench coat as he sat down to eat lunch and realized with a grunt of frustration that he’d left his phone on his nightstand. It had to be Dean’s fault somehow. He threw off Cas’ morning routine with his kissing and his flirting and his suggesting. Not that Castiel minded, of course. Waking up with someone like that to warm his bed was always a welcome change, but he felt so…off without his phone. He’d wanted to call Dean on lunch and let him know how the presentation had gone. Cas was elated with his success. The other members of his department had been so much more focused than usual, due to the welcome change in formatting and the reduced timeframe of the meeting, but the feedback he’d received had also been uplifting. His colleagues felt that his approach had been much more engaging than Zachariah’s format, and although the assessments they’d submitted skirted around the comparison, he got the impression that they’d much prefer to sit through his 45 minute session than their boss’s regular sessions. But no, he’d left his stupid phone at home.

 

Dean left work at 5, drove home to change, and went to meet Pam at the pub down the block from his place right at 6. He didn’t usually drink on weeknights, but it’s not like they were planning to get drunk. Just a couple of beers, maybe a burger, catch up with an old friend. He and Pam used to get in to all kinds of trouble together when they were younger, but they were both too old for that now. At least, Dean thought they were.

“So, Winchester,” she purred as they sank into the cheap vinyl seats of the booth they’d been seated at. “What’s new and exciting? Still wooing the accountant? Or did he blow you off when he realized what an asshole you are underneath that pretty face?” Dean gave her a flat look.

“He has a name, you know.”

“Most people do. I take that to mean he hasn’t run away screaming yet.”

“His name is Castiel, and yeah, I’m still seeing him.” Dean looked at the menu instead of Pam, perusing the beer list with a lot more attention than the task called for.

“Good for you, Winchester. Not every day someone fucks up that badly and gets a second chance.” She laughed at her own joke and reclined in her seat. “Oh relax, I’m just giving you a hard time. Cas seems alright. Little stuffed shirt for my liking, sure, but he’s easy on the eyes, I’ll give you that much. We should go out for drinks some time, you me him and Charlie. Somewhere less loud than last time. That is, if you can promise to keep your hands above the table this time.” She raised an eyebrow at Dean, letting her mouth quirk into a sarcastic smirk as he blanched. “Oh yeah, you are nowhere near as subtle as you think you are. Why do you think me and Charlie bailed on you? We didn’t even leave, we just went to grab another drink. I figured you’d drag him out of there the second you got the chance, so why not give you the opportunity. Poor kid was practically choking on his beer trying to keep a straight face.”

“Yeah, ok. Well um….” Dean felt his face flush. He hadn’t intended for anyone but himself and Cas to know about that. “Thanks for that. Yeah, we should definitely make plans.” _Smooth, real smooth,_ _Winchester_ _,_ he thought to himself. “What about you? Break any hearts lately?”

“Meh,” Pam shrugged. “I’ve got a couple of hook-ups on deck, nothing special. Although there’s this one guy, he’s a firefighter, I swear to god, he’s got a head full of rocks, but as long as he keeps his mouth shut he is just the catch of the century. Abs you could grate cheese on. Him, I think I’ll keep around for a while.”

“You haven’t changed a bit, Pam,” Dean laughed as the waitress came by to take their drink orders. Dean surreptitiously checked his phone. Still no messages from Cas. He didn’t realize he was frowning until Pam commented.

“You have,” she stated flatly. “What’s the matter? Can’t go too long without checking in with the wife?”

“That’s not…no. Shut up.” _A+ conversation skills, asshole,_ he told himself. “Cas had a big thing at work today. I was expecting to hear how it went, like, hours ago. But I haven’t heard from him at all today.” He frowned again. _Did I come on too strong this morning? Was it the_ forever _thing? Does he think I’m moving too fast? Fuck,_ _Winchester_ _, way to screw up again._

“It’s probably nothing,” Pam offered with a note of sympathy in her voice that was entirely out of character. “I bet he just got really busy. You watch. We’ll get our drinks, order something to eat, and by the time you head home he’ll be calling you with a totally valid reason why you haven’t heard from him all day. Dorky little math boys like that are predictable.”

“He has a _name,_ Pam. You should learn it.”

“Right, sorry. _Castiel_ ” she emphasized the name more than necessary, to drive home the fact that she did, in fact, know it. “Jeez Dean, you _have_ changed. I don’t remember ever seeing you get this hung up on a pretty face before. You’re not going soft in your old age, are you?”

“I’m not old. And I’m not going soft. I just…I like him, ok? Like, a lot. So just can the crap.” The waitress returned with their beers as Dean checked his phone again. Still nothing. They ordered food and Dean fixed Pam with another pointed stare as the waitress walked away.

“Ok ok, fine!” Pam said defensively, throwing up her hands in surrender. “No more hard line on the Castiel thing. “But this desperate lovesick teenager thing isn’t a good look on you. Does he know how you feel?” Dean shrugged.

“I assume so? I mean, we spend a decent amount of time together, and I took care of him when he was sick last week, and the sex is pretty awesome, so, yeah probably.”

“You _assume so_? Aw Dean honey, you are such a man sometimes. I’m going to go ahead here and translate that as ‘I have some pretty big feels going on but I’m way too much of an emotionally stunted man-child to address them and have a frank, adult conversation about a relationship with the person I’m having lewd, depraved, totally satisfying sex with so instead I’m just going to pretend he can read my mind because nothing bad _ever_ comes from that.’ Sound about right?” Dean glared. “Yeah. I thought so. You have to have this conversation with him eventually. If he matters to you, don’t you _want_ him to know? Like I get that you haven’t known him that long, but I guarantee you wouldn’t be getting this worked up about a delayed text response if you knew where you stood. Man the fuck up, Dean.” Dean thought she was probably right, but that didn’t mean he had to let her know he agreed.

 

An hour or so later, Dean said goodbye to Pam with a hug and promised that they’d have dinner again soon, this time with Cas in tow. He checked his phone again as he started the short walk back to his apartment and was thrilled to see that he’d received several text messages in the few minutes since he’d last checked it. He’d tried to be patient, ignoring his phone in favour of conversation with Pam, but he’d checked when she’d gotten up to use the ladies, and when she rummaged in her purse for something, and any other time he thought it would go un-noticed.

_The presentation went very well, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you._

_Dinner this week would be nice. Will you come over Saturday? I can cook for you._

_Gabriel will be there, I think, but he’s not terrible company. And Charlie, of course. You’ve both been so helpful. I’d like to thank you._

Dean smiled, thoroughly excited that he finally got a response. He knew he shouldn’t be so thrilled over a few words on a screen, but there it was. Dean Winchester had it bad.

 

_That’s great Cas! I knew you’d kick ass. I’m just walking home. Can I call you in like 10 minutes?_

Dean tucked his phone away and quickened his pace, totally because it was cold outside and not at all because he wanted to rush home and call Cas. He passed by the familiar sights of his neighbourhood without really seeing them, hands stuffed deep in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the chill. Spring was on the horizon but it certainly didn’t feel like it. The thought of Spring reminded Dean that he still hadn’t mentioned his brother’s planned visit. He wondered if Cas would freak out at the idea of meeting family. By the time he got home he’d managed to work himself into a bit of a frenzy, stressing about how Cas would feel about potentially meeting Sam, and the conversation Pam’s voice in his head was goading him towards. He dialled Cas’ number as soon as he was inside his apartment, breath still quickened from his hurried pace and hands still tingling from the cold.

“Hey Cas,” His voice rang clear and warm over the line when the call was answered.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied. “I’m sorry I missed your messages today. I wanted to call you at lunch and let you know about the meeting but I stupidly left my phone at home in my rush. I didn’t get home until about half an hour ago. It was nice to see messages from you when I finally got them, though.” Dean could hear the smile in his voice.

“I thought it might be something like that.” Dean lied. He thought nothing of the sort. He thought Cas was pushing him away or that he’d frightened him or that he’d just gotten _bored._ Dean was thankful he hadn’t voiced any of his idiotic concerns. “You mentioned dinner Saturday? You don’t have to cook for me, you know. We can just order takeout or whatever.”

“I want to, Dean. I’m so grateful for your help with my presentation. I want to thank you and Charlie both for what you’ve done. I’m not sure what I would have done without you.” Dean warmed, not just because he was finally inside where it was cozy.

“You would have done just fine on your own, Cas. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re like, super-accountant. You’re awesome.” Cas was silent on the other end of the line. “So Saturday? Does that mean I don’t get to see you until then?”

“I’m free tomorrow,” Castiel replied quickly, almost like he was waiting for the invitation. “We could watch a movie, have a quiet night?”

“I suppose I can hold out that long,” Dean teased. “I mean, tonight would be preferable but I guess it _is_ getting kinda late.” He could almost imagine Cas blushing at the suggestive tone in his voice.

“Dean,” Castiel chided. “It’s already almost 8. I’d love to see you this evening but it’s late. And you know if you came over you’d keep me awake far longer than I plan on.”

“Well yeah, but that’s just because I can’t get enough of you. You’re amazing, you know that? Besides, I’ve never heard you complain before when I kept you up late. I seem to recall you being incredibly vocal about being OK with it.” Castiel’s breath hitched. Dean knew he should stop teasing but he couldn’t help himself. Castiel was just so sexy when he got all flustered.

“That’s besides the point,” Castiel replied, his voice low and breathy.

“No, it’s exactly the point. I like it when you get loud. You have no idea what it does to me, the sounds you make when I touch you. I wish I could touch you right now.” Dean palmed himself through his jeans, feeling his dick grow hard at just the thought of Castiel, naked and spread out before him. God, he was in deep.

“Me too Dean,” Cas answered.

“Where are you? Are you in your bedroom?”

“Yes,” Cas’ voice was barely above a whisper now.

“Close the door and take off your pants,” Dean commanded, moving to his own bedroom and stripping out of his jeans as quick as he could with one hand occupied by the phone. If he couldn’t have Cas right in front of him, this was the next best thing. He heard the door click shut, and the faint rustling of fabric before Cas spoke again.

“OK,” he breathed, his voice thick with arousal.

“I want you to touch yourself like it’s me touching you, Cas.” Dean’s free hand wrapped around his own hardening cock as he spoke and he let his mind run wild with fantasies of Cas touching him, their naked bodies pressed together. “Imagine it’s my hand stroking your cock. Can you do that for me?” Cas let out a soft moan as he obeyed and Dean felt his flesh heat with want. His hand moved slowly, teasingly up the length of his shaft and he tried to envision Cas stroking him, his slender fingers touching just so, and he couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from his lips.

“Fuck, Cas, I can’t even see you and you’re making me so hard. If I was there right now…” Dean trailed off, suddenly worried that he’d taken it too far.

“What Dean? What would you do?” Cas practically begged. Ok, so not too far.

“I’d strip you down and lay you out on the bed. Then I’d put my mouth on your nipple, I know how much you like that. You make these awesome little sounds when I do that.” Cas made the exact sound he was remembering. “Are you touching yourself there right now, Cas?”

“Yeah…” he groaned. “I’ve got my phone on hands free.”

“Hmm, good,” Dean hummed. “So good. Then I’d work my way down to your cock. I’d lick the tip just a little, tease you and make you beg for it. I’d make you want me as bad as I want you.” Dean fisted his cock roughly, his hips bucking up in a consistent rhythm as he spoke. “And when you couldn’t take any more, when you finally begged me for it, I’d put my mouth on you, take your whole length in slowly. I’d swallow you down as much as I could, and I’d use my tongue to tease you as I sank down. And then I’d start to move up and down. I’d suck at the tip and then move down again, and you’d be so hard, so hard for me, wouldn’t you Cas?”

“Oh god Dean, yes!” Cas sounded frantic, desperate.

“Yeah, I bet you would. I bet you’re hard for me right now.” Dean could feel himself getting close, could feel the orgasm burning in his core. “Then I’d slide my hand back and push a finger in to you, just one, and you’d jerk your hips up and force your dick into my mouth.” Dean gasped, imagining Cas thrusting in to him, wrecked with arousal. “And I’d find your sweet spot and press on it, over and over and –OH God Cas!” Dean cried, thrown off by the loud throaty moan that came through the line. The sound of Cas in the throes of pleasure was all it took to force Dean over the edge, and he grunted as his orgasm ripped through his body, spraying come over his hand as he gave his dick one last tug.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Cas groaned. Dean could hear him breathing heavily through the phone. He reached for a discarded tee-shirt to clean himself up.

“Jesus Christ yourself, Cas. That was hot. Not quite as good as the real thing, but it should keep me goin’ until I can see you again.” Cas laughed softly.

“Good night, Dean.”

“Good night, Cas.” Dean hung up the phone and walked on jellied legs to the bathroom to shower. Fuck, Castiel was going to be the end of him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry kids, no smut in this chapter. Just lots of fluff. If you're craving something more explicit, I just posted a PWP called Stickshifts and Safety Belts that should hit the spot.

Castiel spent the rest of the week with his head down, trying to complete his work quietly and generally escape notice as much as possible. His presentation had impressed his colleagues and he was certain Zachariah would respond favourably to the reception as well as the man-hours he saved by reducing the time used for the meeting, but he was uncomfortable with the attention he felt it brought his way in the day to day operations of the office. Cas would much rather fade into the background.

On Tuesday, Rachel cornered him in the lunch room and took up most of his break with a conversation he supposed she thought was rather subtle but came across like a neon sign.

“Word is Zachariah is looking for a successor,” she’d started casually. Castiel just nodded and took a bite of his sandwich. He’d much rather have devoted his attention to his phone; Dean usually took his lunch around the same time and he might be able to squeeze in a few text messages. Honestly, he’d rather devote his attention to the slight smudge on the wall left by someone squishing a housefly in some time not terribly recently than talk office politics.

“He’s looking for someone to take under his wing, they say.” Castiel had no idea who _they_ were. He didn’t much care. “Apparently he’s being eyed for some sort of promotion himself, and they want him to train someone to take his place.”

“That’s interesting,” Castiel replied. He didn’t mean it. Rachel eyed him suspiciously.

“Is that why you were running the meeting yesterday?” she asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Castiel replied, already bored with the conversation. Zachariah certainly hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort. “He doesn’t confide in me.” Rachel stared at him for a long minute, weighing his answer for merit before giving a sharp nod and leaving Castiel to finish his sandwich.

 

On Wednesday Cas made it through almost the entire day without dealing with his ridiculous coworkers and their childish scheming. Near the end of the work day, he’d made considerable progress on the reports he was preparing and was hoping to leave a few minutes early to dash across town and meet Charlie for dinner (at her insistence). But just as he was thinking he might actually surpass his own productivity goals for the day, Bart, the insufferable know-it-all who’d been last to arrive at his meeting, draped an arm over the wall of his cubicle .

“Castiel,” he brayed. Cas could smell the cheap cologne seeping out of his pores as he spoke. Maybe he should make a bingo card for all the people he hated at work too.  

“Hello, Bartholomew,” he replied without looking up from his work. He knew the man hated his full name, so Castiel used it every chance he got. Anything to reduce the possibility of further conversation.

“Actually, it’s just Bart,” he snapped, predictably.

“Uh huh.”

“So listen, Castiel, I can’t help but notice that you’ve put yourself quite far ahead of the pack with this whole Zachariah thing.” The man had all the grace and charm of a used car salesman. Castiel simply could not stand him.

“Not my intent, I assure you.” Cas refused to let himself be baited.

“Well it’s just, the thing is, I kinda feel like it _is_ your intent. It’s fairly obvious you’re gunning for the promotion. I just thought I’d drop by and let you know that I’m not going to make the competition easy on you. That job’s mine.” Bart’s eyes narrowed as he sneered the words at Cas. Cas just rolled his eyes.

“Uh huh. Well, best of luck with that. Although if you’re really trying to show your worthiness for the upgraded position, you might try doing, you know, some actual work, instead of hanging around my station making thinly veiled threats and generally being a nuisance. I hear Zach likes that.” Castiel turned back to his work without waiting for a response, but he heard Bart muttering under his breath as he walked away, and that was a reward in itself.

 

On Thursday Castiel treated himself to coffee and a muffin from a café down the block from the office and arrived at his desk just a few minutes earlier than usual. As such, he was seated in his cubicle and essentially invisible to anyone getting off the elevator. So while he sat quietly at his desk and enjoyed his latte, he was treated to a rather humorous exchange between two of his colleagues.

“I don’t understand it!” Bart barked as the elevator doors slid open. “It’s like he has no ambition at all! How am I being passed up for a promotion for someone who doesn’t even care if they get it???”

“You don’t even know for sure that’s what’s happening,” Hannah replied. “You don’t even actually know that there’s a promotion to be had. Zach never actually confirmed it.” Castiel pretended he wasn’t listening, but the entire exchange was fairly amusing. It sounded like they were just standing outside the elevator.

“But he’s a nobody!” Castiel assumed that meant himself. “He’s always got his head down and he rarely ever speaks up. I can’t imagine he’s got any leadership skills to speak of. I don’t understand why Zach would even consider him.”

“Probably because he actually does the work assigned to him and shows up on time? You talk a big game but you’re not exactly a model employee,” Hannah replied smugly. Castiel heard footsteps. He opened a few random spreadsheets to give the appearance of industriousness should anyone walk past his cubicle, but it wasn’t necessary. Hannah disappeared off toward the lunch room and Bart’s footsteps vanished into silence the opposite direction from Cas’ workspace. Castiel had no idea that giving a simple presentation would make this many waves.

 

On Friday, Zachariah returned to the office. He looked a little bedraggled as he entered the building, stating that he’d ended up on a red-eye back from New York and retreated to his own office and closed the door. Castiel didn’t see him again until after lunch, when he appeared looking much fresher, if still quite tired, and asked Castiel to come meet with him.

“I’ve been going over the feedback collected from the meeting on Monday,” he began without preamble as Castiel closed the door behind him and took a seat opposite his boss. “You made some rather sweeping changes to the format, I see.” Castiel gulped a breath, worried that Zachariah was unhappy with the performance.

“I felt that I could accomplish the desired impact of the meeting, that is to say, team comprehension of the raw data, much more effectively with a short-form, visually supplemented presentation than if I was to stick to the format the team is used to. I myself am not an accomplished public speaker, so I felt that simply presenting the material verbally would not be playing to my strengths.” Castiel hoped that his explanation wouldn’t be interpreted as a condemnation of Zachariah’s own meeting style.

“That’s a good strategy,” Zach replied, still glancing at the pages in his hand somewhat distractedly. Castiel supposed he was still tired from his late night flight. “How would you feel about taking over the Monday meeting on a more regular basis? Say once or twice a month? I like that you were able to reduce the man-hours used, and frankly I’d love to be able to take it off my own plate sometimes. I’d obviously attend still, but I think there’s benefit in having someone other than myself present the information.” Castiel was stunned. When he’d accepted the project, he’d assumed it was a single iteration, a one off situation that he could push through and get past. But now, twice a month? He didn’t see a way he could refuse though, not without seeming like he was a difficult employee. Not with the reasons Zach had given. So instead of declining the opportunity, he assented with what he hoped was believable enthusiasm. Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried quite so hard to do a good job on this particular endeavor.

 

Dean actually remembered to call his brother on Thursday. He felt kinda proud of himself, actually. He’d remembered to ask Bobby for the time off work, picked up some spare sheets to put on the pull out couch. Dean had done everything he needed in preparation of Sam’s visit even though it was still a month away. Everything, that is, but tell Cas. It’s not that he didn’t want to introduce Cas to his brother. Not by a long shot. It just never seemed like the right time to bring it up. Still, he had four solid weeks to figure it out. Four weeks to figure out if Cas even wanted to keep him around. He’d find the right time eventually.

Sam was excited about the visit. The time he’d spent away at school was the longest Dean had ever been away from his little brother and neither of them relished the distance. But Sammy deserved a chance at a good education. He’d always been so smart. He’d make something of himself, Dean knew. He deserved that.

 

 

When Dean arrived at Cas’ place for dinner Saturday night, his nose picked up the tantalizing aroma of something sweet baking even as he picked his way down the hall. He hoped the smell was coming from Cas’ apartment. It got stronger as he got closer to his destination, and when Gabriel opened the door to let him in, Dean got his wish. Unimpeded by doors, he could now clearly identify the smell. Cas had baked a pie.

Charlie was already sitting on the couch drinking a beer when he stepped into the room. Her smile was wide and warm; Dean suspected it wasn’t her first drink.

“Dean, you’re here! I brought beer!” she sing-songed. “But I drank most of it already.” Her smile slipped for a moment, replaced with a small pout as she eyed the empty bottle in her hand. She quickly perked up though, noticing the twelve pack of beer Dean carried under one arm.

“How about we get you some water instead,” Dean offered, throwing a protective arm around her shoulders as he sat beside her on the couch. “Maybe you should eat some food before you drink any more beer. Just a thought.”

“You’re smart,” Charlie sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I think I understand why Cas likes you so much. Cas!” Cas eyed her sideways as he walked into the room with an apron over his clothes and a large glass of water in his hand.

“Charlie, you need to drink this. I invited you for dinner as a thank you and the effect is somewhat ruined if you pass out before the food is ready.” He handed Charlie the water and watched like a mother hen as she drank the entire thing.

“Do I smell pie?” Dean asked, wrapping his arms around Cas and drawing him in to a sweet kiss. He ignored the noises Gabriel made behind them.

“Think you can keep your tongue out of my brother’s mouth for a few minutes, Dean-o? I’d like to avoid gagging at least until we’re doing eating.” Cas rolled his eyes and Dean was pretty sure he was preparing a brotherly tirade, but Dean spoke first.

“Well I would, really, but see the thing is I just don’t want to,” and he kissed Castiel again with much more fervor. “C’mon Cas. I should put this beer in the fridge.”

 

Gabriel apparently succeeded in feeding Charlie several more glasses of water while Dean and Cas stole a private moment in the kitchen, because by the time dinner was ready she’d managed to stop squealing at everything and was sitting up much straighter. Cas had laid out quite the spread. There was a large spinach salad full of strawberries and almonds and some kind of soft cheese that he claimed was from goats, and garlic bread, and a giant pot of spaghetti.

“Did you make this sauce from scratch?!” Dean asked incredulously as he helped himself to a sizeable portion of the pasta. He attempted to avoid the salad but Cas filled a small bowl and placed it beside Dean’s place with a pointed look on his face. “Like, mashed up the tomatoes all by yourself and everything?” Cas nodded.

“Pasta sauce from a jar doesn’t make a very nice show of gratitude. I will confess, I didn’t bake the bread myself.”

“Mercy!” Gabe exclaimed, fake-scandalized, as he mocked a swoon and threw a dramatic arm across his eyes. “Store bought bread? I _never_!!”

The four carried their loaded plates into the living room and crowded around Gabe and Cas’ coffee table to feast.

“What the heck were you watching, Charlie?” Dean asked, gesturing to the nature program on the tv as they sat down. Some kind of small furry animal was crawling around a rainy forest floor on screen, but the volume was too low to tell what the narrator was saying. “Is that some kind of weird beaver?”

“It’s a marmot, Dean,” Cas replied, gesturing with his fork. “They’re endangered.”

“Marmot, beaver, same difference,” Dean said with a shrug, before taking a large bite of spaghetti. “Oh my god Cas, this is amazing! You need to cook for me more often.” Cas grinned at the praise as he turned his attention to his own meal.

“You know what the difference between a beaver and a marmot is, right?” Gabe asked with a mischievous grin on his face. “I’ve never buried it in a marmot.” He laughed raucously at his own lewd joke, but no one else in the room seemed to think it was that funny.

“Eww, Gabriel, not a dinner joke. Gross.” Charlie shot him a dirty look before devouring her garlic bread. She seemed much more alert now that there was food in her belly to accompany all the beer she took in before Dean arrived. Castiel shot his brother a look, and Gabe had the sense to look at least a little ashamed of his joke.

“So Cassie,” he began, shifting the topic of conversation off his own sense of humour. “Did you tell Dean-o about your big work news?” Dean cocked his head questioningly toward the blue-eyed man, since his mouth was too full of food to ask the question with his mouth.

“Ah yes. That. Apparently my performance was more than satisfactory. I’ve been asked to take over the meetings twice a month going forward.” He gave a resigned sigh as he tipped back his beer, drowning his annoyance.

“That’s great news Cas! Why didn’t you say something sooner, we should be celebrating!” Dean grinned with pride as he spoke.

“It’s not great news. Now I have to speak in front of groups on a regular basis. It’s the worst news. I never should have agreed to do even the one.” Cas frowned at his empty beer.

“But you’ve done it before, and you did great. You can do it again. Remember how great it felt when you kicked ass on the last one? It’s not going to be as hard now that you know you’re badass. And it makes you look good to your boss. That’s never a bad thing.” Dean reached out to rest a hand on Cas’ knee as he spoke. “You’re awesome. There’s nothing wrong with letting your co-workers know it.”

“I guess so,” Cas admitted grudgingly. “I’d just rather not.”

 

After dinner, there was pie. Dean’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas as Cas cut large slices of the apples and cinnamon filled pastry. It was still warm from the oven, filling the air with a spicy-sweet aroma that made Dean’s mouth water. He moaned around his fork as he took a bite.

“Oh my god, Cas, this is amazing! Where did you learn to bake pies like this??!” Cas shrugged, slightly embarrassed by the praise.

“I watched a couple of cooking shows one time. It’s no big deal. Pie crust is easy, you just have to be careful how you handle it.”

“Well, that settles it. On top of everything else, you bake pies like this? I’m keeping you.” Dean gave Cas a chaste kiss on the lips before turning his full attention back to the pie. Back in the living room, Charlie still sat on the couch, but she started to slump against the pillows and her eyes were barely slits.

“Um Cas?” Gabe interjected. “I think your ginger is done for the night.” He tucked an arm behind her back and hoisted the sleepy girl bodily off the couch. “Hand me my keys? I’m gonna get this lightweight home.” Charlie opened her eyes as she was pulled up to mostly stand.

“I can walk,” she insisted a little petulantly.

“I’m sure you can sweetheart, but why don’t you lean on me anyway. It’s important for my image that I never leave the house without a pretty girl on my arm, ok?”

“Aww you think I’m pretty?” she slurred, and Gabe took the opportunity to loop an arm around her waist as they made slow passage out the door. A heavy quiet fell over the apartment as Gabriel and Charlie’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway. _You should talk to him about Sam_ , Dean’s brain demanded now that they were alone. Dean shook his head, trying to silence the voice, but it wouldn’t be quashed.

“So you’ll keep me then,” Cas’ voice interrupted his mental battle.

“Huh?”

“You said, about the pies. ‘I’m keeping you.’ Did you mean that?” Cas’ eyes were downcast as he spoke, and his voice wavered with uncertainty.

“That depends,” Dean teased. He knew that Cas needed a reassurance, but he was still freaked out about the whole idea of a relationship conversation, and the sarcastic asshole strategy was his only defense mechanism. “Do you want me to keep you around?” Dean wanted to look Cas in the eyes, wanted to smile and kiss him and avoid all the other parts of a conversation like this, you know, like the words part. But Cas didn’t look up, so he was forced to do things the verbal way. “I’d like to, I mean, you know, if it’s ok with you. I mean, um. We could, you could be….” _Fucking smooth, Winchester._ “I really like you, Cas. I’m no good at this shit, but I guess what I’m trying to say is….I need you, man.” Cas chose that moment to make eye contact. The soft smile that spread across his lips and the light in his eyes made Dean’s heart swell.

“I think I’d like it if you kept me,” Cas murmured as Dean’s arms encircled him.

“Well then it’s settled. All mine.” They stood in the kitchen, just holding each other for long minutes before Dean thought to speak again.

“Um so, listen. My little brother is coming to visit next month. Spring break, you know? And he’s like, super insistent that he meet my um….I guess the word now is boyfriend?”

“And you thought you even needed to ask?” Cas replied, smoothing his hands up Dean’s back as he spoke. “Of course I want to meet your brother. You’ve already put up with mine on several occasions. I’d be honoured.”

“You’re sure? You don’t feel like, I don’t know, pressured? I know new people can be a problem for you and he’s family and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to rush you in to it, it’s no problem if you’re not ready, it’s just Sammy really wants to meet you and I know he’s totally going to like you and…” Cas cut him off with a kiss.

“You’re rambling, Dean.” Cas’ lips prevented any further conversation on the subject, subduing Dean with a long, passionate kiss that left them both breathless. “When your brother comes to town, I’d be happy to meet him.”

“Ok fine. But speaking of brothers, how long do you think we have before yours gets home? I’ve kinda got this crazy desire to show you how much I appreciate people who bake me pies…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beaver/marmot joke was originally told by a friend of my parents when we were at a hockey game, and my mom confused our team's mascot, who is a marmot, as being a beaver. My sister went to hug the thing, and she shouted "Don't touch that beaver! you dont' know where it's been!" and I corrected her. Her friend then chimed in with Gabe's line. It was super classy.


	12. Chapter 12

If Dean was honest with himself (and he rarely was), he’d admit that he was pleasantly surprised at the lack of fallout from what passed as a deep and emotionally intimate moment between himself and Cas. The relationship conversation had never come at his insistence in past. If he could avoid it, it never came at all. So spilling his proverbial guts over the empty pie tin in Cas’ kitchen had been an immense challenge and blurting things out seemed like the only way he’d ever get it all out. Stream of consciousness. Say it in whatever way he could force out before his brain caught on to his stupidity and shut down his speech center and rendered him mute. Someone had once told Dean he was prettiest when he kept his mouth shut. There was a brief moment after he spewed his feelings in a slightly less than Shakespearean show of grace and romanticism where he thought Cas might decide he agreed with that asshole. How did he get so lucky?  
Dean pondered all these things as he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel of his baby. The drive out to the airport wasn’t particularly long when taken during off-peak but right now, rush hour on a Thursday, what should have been a twenty minute jaunt had stretched out into an hour plus, and Dean was immensely relieved that he’d left unreasonably early to pick up his brother.

Traffic gave Dean time alone with his thoughts. Usually Dean would do anything to drown them out, either crank the radio and sing along or pointedly pretend he didn’t have any thoughts to be thinking about. Dean Winchester possessed all the emotional maturity of a toaster oven. This time, though, Dean didn’t feel like he had anything to avoid. His brain was filled with happy thoughts for the first time in a very long while, so instead he just let his mind wander.

His life had become incredibly stable lately. Dean could count on one hand the number of nights he’d spent alone since the thing with Cas had officially become a relationship. With the exception of a few nights that Cas had worked late and a couple of evenings when they’d drifted to their separate homes to do laundry the two had become inseparable. Dean certainly wasn’t complaining. Nights with Cas meant sex, and sex meant cuddling and touching and waking up next to someone whose name he remembered and sleepy kisses and shared showers and goddamn, Dean needed to think of something else or he’d be sporting an awkwardly concealed boner when he met Sammy at the arrivals gate.

Dean didn’t have much experience when it came to functionally healthy adult relationships, but even he had to admit that the thing with Cas was painlessly easy. It shouldn’t have been, he reasoned. Relationships were supposed to be hard. That’s why he always avoided them in past. Relationships were all about compromise and sacrifice and struggling to find a balance between your own life and the life the other person wanted. Cas didn’t demand any of that. He didn’t demand much of anything, not with words anyway. His piercing blue eyes and the shy mysterious air he carried himself with demanded Dean’s attention, but he gave it willingly and gratefully. No, it wasn’t hard. None of it was hard.

Dean knew Cas and his brother would get along well. Sam had such an easy charm about him with his big puppy-dog eyes and his gangly arms and his big stupid moose laugh, he couldn’t imagine a reality in which Sam didn’t immediately hit it off with the quiet accountant that had wormed his way in to Dean’s previously shrivelled heart.

He was perfectly aware of the big stupid grin on his face as he pulled his baby into the short-term parking lot and selected a spot in a distant corner where no one was likely to run in to his fender with a luggage cart. The smile didn’t fade even a little as he trudged back across the lot to the arrivals gate. The entire place was a bustle of cars and pedestrians and Dean was forced to focus on not getting killed by any number of vehicles operated by distracted idiots. He was grateful when he reached the sidewalk and only had to watch out for idiots on foot. His height gave him a bit of an advantage, at least, allowing Dean to pick the path of least resistance. He didn’t really understand how anyone under six feet managed not to drown in a crowd like this.

Sam’s own height would make him easy to spot, too, so Dean didn’t waste too much time scanning the crowd for his face. There weren’t too many people in a given location who towered like his brother. According to the arrivals board, Sam’s flight was on time and had just landed, so he wouldn’t have to wait long. Dean watched with half his attention as a steady stream of people came through the sliding doors, their faces weary from travel and seemingly grateful that the journey was drawing to an end. He shuddered at the thought of it. Airplanes were, as far as he was concerned, the least pleasant way a person could possibly travel. Dean much preferred the safety of a stretch of blacktop, the familiar rumble of his precious Impala soothing his nerves and the roar of traffic pulling him along. He’d even take a train if it was necessary. Boats didn’t bother him, although he’d never really been anywhere that required an ocean voyage, but he’d taken a couple of booze cruises in years past and he hadn’t hated them overly much. Bicycles he’d do in a pinch (although don’t you fucking dare offer one of those tandem pieces of shit, swear to god), and the idea of cruising around on a motorcycle definitely held appeal. But airplanes? Fuck airplanes. Dean could not even begin to wrap his brain around the idea that people were comfortable strapping themselves in to a metal tube and letting jet turbines fling them through the stratosphere. Human beings were not meant to fly, he reasoned, or whatever processes had caused them to evolve from little fishes flopping around in the primordial ooze would have seen fit to grant him a pair of feathery wings. Human beings were not meant to leave the ground. It just wasn’t natural.

Dean couldn’t exactly figure out why, but instead impatience and boredom, the bustle of human activity in the airport on this particular day gave him a sense of peace and ease. He quietly observed the interactions as he waited for his brother. A man coming home to his wife and three small children dropped his briefcase and scooped all the little ones into a loving hug, ignoring the luggage, and mom just watched with a smile on her face. A woman with striking features pushed through the crowd until she found the plain looking object of her attentions, practically throwing herself into her girlfriend’s arms, and the plain girl’s features transformed into something truly beautiful as they lit up with all the love a face could display. Pam was right, he decided. Dean _was_ going soft in his old age. He should quit his job and write greeting cards for Hallmark or some shit. Fucking romance.

Dean spotted a familiar mop of shaggy hair peeking out over the heads of the other arrivals. Sam looked exactly the same as he had when he’d left for school in August, swathed in plaid and in desperate need of a haircut. Honestly, five minutes and some clippers, Dean could fix that nightmare once and for all. Sam’s eyes flashed with recognition as he spotted Dean in the crowd, and he pushed his way through the throngs with gentle persistence until the brothers were finally reunited.

“Sammy!” Dean barked as the two shared a quick embrace, the kind of man-hug that was punctuated with a slap on the back. “How was the flight?”

“There is nowhere near enough legroom for someone my size on a plane like that. But it didn’t fall out of the sky, if that’s what you’re asking. Honestly Dean, I don’t know what your issue with airplanes is. They’re perfectly safe.” Dean shook his head derisively, picking a path over towards baggage claim.

“They are not. Lots of planes crash. I don’t fucking trust them, man. How can you possibly feel safe at 30’000 feet in a metal tube? It defies logic.”

“Yeah whatever man. Let’s just get my bag and get out of here. I need a beer and a meal and a shower, I think in that exact order.”

 

If Dean had spent any time analyzing it in advance, he would have expected the drive back in to town to be somewhat awkward or strained. The two brothers hadn’t spoken as much as either of them would have liked since Sam went off to school and it’s usually so hard to pick up where you’ve left off after something like that. But it wasn’t awkward. It was familiar and safe and, if Dean had to describe it, he’d tell you it felt like home. Traffic didn’t flow much faster on the way back than it did on Dean’s way out to the airport, so they had plenty of time to catch up.

“So this Castiel person,” Sam began when they were about half way back to Dean’s apartment. The consensus was that they would drop Sam’s stuff off at home and head out to the pub for dinner. “Is he joining us for dinner? When do I get to meet him?” Dean supressed his irritation. Sam wasn’t trying to push, he knew. He just wanted to meet the guy who made his big brother ‘uncharacteristically cheerful,’ as he put it. But with both their parents gone, meeting Sam was the big deal. Sam was all the family he had left. It was the only hurdle. Even though he knew Sam would like Cas immediately, he still felt overwhelmed by the idea of merging the two parts of his life; the family he’d barely clung to and the newfound relationship he was still finding a place for. It was a lot to deal with.

“Not today, Sam. He’s got work in the morning. We’ll have dinner and get you settled, and he’s coming out for dinner and drinks tomorrow. You’ll meet Charlie, too, and Pam’s coming.” Dean added the last almost as an afterthought. _If it’s a group thing,_ his brain reasoned, _there’s way less pressure._ Sam looked disappointed, but he didn’t say anything in protest.

“OK, sure. How is Pam?”

“Same old Pam,” Dean shrugs. “Foul mouthed, kinda angry, breaking hearts left right and center.”

“Yup that sounds about right. Who’s Charlie again?” Sam glanced out the window as they drove, idly taking in sights he’d seen thousands of times.

“She’s this friend of Pam’s, I met her the night I met Cas. Super huge nerd.  She talks about tons of geek stuff, I have no idea what she’s saying some times. You’ll probably get along great, actually.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Sam replied noncommittally. “I’m sure she’s great, but it’s Cas I’m excited to meet. Anyone that can make my man-whore of a brother get all flustered, he’s gotta be something special.” Dean blushed, grateful the dim light of the evening kept his red face hidden.

“I’m not a man-whore,” he replied defensively.

“Yeah, not any more you’re not.” Dean didn’t have a good answer for that.

 

“So wait, you locked eyes across a dirty night club, felt him up under a table, _took him out for pancakes_ , slept with him, bailed out while he was sleeping, didn’t leave your number, and somehow you are still having an actual, functional, adult relationship with this person? How…? I don’t even…?” Sam stammered incredulously, for once at a loss for words. He’d insisted that Dean tell the actual story of his first meeting with Castiel over dinner that evening, and Dean had tried to change the subject but had eventually caved. He left out the more graphic details (this was his brother, after all), but hadn’t left out anything that would qualify as plot-related. “You are fucking smooth.”  
“Smooth has nothing to do with it,” Dean admitted, punctuating his sentence with a long draw off his bottle of beer. “I left a note on his night stand and I didn’t even put my number on it. He waited a full day to get in touch after he finally found it, because of course he thought I was an asshole by that point. And I took him out to the park in the middle of fucking January on our first date because I am the most cliché motherfucker living today. It was almost a complete disaster. But then we stayed up all night watching zombie movies, and…man I am so screwed.” He was immensely glad his brother was in town. Dean couldn’t talk like this with anyone else. Pam was quick to call him on his shit but he could never really bring himself to confide in her. Not about the emotional stuff he pretended didn’t exist, at least. And he barely knew Charlie. Plus, he felt pretty confident that she was squarely in Castiel’s camp. Last thing he wanted to be doing was pouring his heart out to his boyfriend’s best girlfriend.

“How would you even know? I mean it’s not like you’ve ever been in anything long term before.” Sam smiled at the waiter as he dropped a salad in front of the taller Winchester. A salad. Who fucking orders a salad at a pub? Dean cringed at the sight, grateful for the bacon cheeseburger on his own plate. He’d never understand his brother’s food choices, not if he lived nine lives.

“Yeah, and he’s different. You know how many days in the last month I’ve slept alone, Sammy? Five. You know how many days I’ve gone without talking to him? Big fat fucking zero. I can’t get him out of my head. It’s like…I can’t even describe it. He makes me want to be less of an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole, Dean,” Sam said, rolling his eyes at the flat stare of disbelief his brother offered in response. “OK, you’re maybe a little bit of an asshole. Point taken. I’m glad he makes you happy. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Sure thing, Sam. Just…go easy on Cas. And me. This is kind of a big deal, you know? Don’t go all mom on him.” Sam threw up his hands defensively.

“Dude, chill. I promise. No twenty questions. But since you obviously plan on keeping this one around past the magic two month mark, I can’t wait to meet him.” Sam attacked his salad with the ferocity of a hunter, a ferocity Dean felt was much more suited for something with actual meat in it.

“What do you mean, ‘magic two month mark?’ I’ve had relationships longer than that.” Dean glared at his brother accusingly. He couldn’t actually think of anyone he’d kept around that long, but he was sure Sam was wrong.

“No Dean, you haven’t. You dated Lisa for like six weeks before you cut her loose, and when you finally came out it was all one night stands and short flings. You dumped Aaron at exactly eight weeks, and when you had Benny, you started dating at the beginning of June and you stopped returning his calls as soon as it was August. You have never in your entire life dated someone longer than two months.” Dean was offended. There’s no way that was true. It had been a long time since he’d actually let someone get close, sure, but there must be…Oh. Oh shit. _Oh Shit._

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, and found himself suddenly incredibly thirsty. The last of his beer disappeared as quickly as he could drink it, and considered flagging the waiter down to order another. Hell, he could drink a whole pitcher right about now.

“Thanks, Sam. Thanks a lot. I could seriously have gone without that particular revelation right about now. Why do you even keep track of these things? Don’t you have more important things to do than keep track of my failed relationships?”

“Simmer down, Dean. The point I was _trying_ to make, in case you were interested, is that this is different. You never gave a shit before. You didn’t even do a very good job of pretending. But you actually seem to care about this guy. That’s why I’m interested. Not because you’ve kept him around, but because you clearly _want_ to.” Dean sighed.

“Yeah except now I am painfully aware of that crap. Damnit Sammy.” He got the attention of the waiter, ordering them each another beer.

“Ok but seriously, does it matter? Did anyone else matter to you like he does?” Dean pointedly did not make eye contact with his brother, but he shook his head slightly. “Do you _want_ this to end with Cas?”  
“No man, No! Of course I don’t.” Dean eyed his burger hungrily. He wanted to end this conversation and focus on food, but his keenly developed social skills told him that Sam would be weirdly offended by that.

“Then who cares? I bet Cas doesn’t. Actually, you know what? Lemme do some quick math here. What day did you meet?” Dean thought about it for a moment, counting days in his head.

“The Friday after New Year’s,” he replied. “But we didn’t have an actual date until the next Saturday.”

“Ok, so get this,” Sam said after a brief moment. “Next Saturday, that’s your two month mark. You’re already practically there. And you’re not bored, you’re not disinterested, you’re not trying to push him away. This is a good thing, Dean. Roll with it.”  
“Yeah, alright,” Dean sighed in response, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. Next Saturday was a long way off. There were plenty of things Dean could do to fuck things up in 9 days.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean put an immense level of effort into pretending he wasn’t nervous in the hours leading up to dinner on Friday. He smiled and laughed and joked with Sam all afternoon before leaving his brother a spare key and heading out to pick Cas up at his office. He greeted his boyfriend warmly, drawing him close and if he kissed Cas two to three times longer than he usually would in greeting, well, he definitely wasn’t stalling, that’s for sure. Conversation on the way to dinner was casual and easy and normal, but inside his brain Dean was freaking out. _What if Sam thinks he’s weird? What if he thinks Sam’s a jerk? Sam IS kind of a jerk sometimes…What if I fuck it up somehow? It’s been almost two months, why did Sam mention that, why am I thinking about that why am I thinking about that why am I still thinking about that????!!!!!!_

Dean parked the car and supressed the urge to run far, far away the second his feet hit the concrete. It’s not that he wanted to be away from Cas, or from Sam, or even from Sam and Cas together, it’s just….the first meeting. It’s huge. It sets the tone. And he was painfully aware after Sam’s inability to shut his big stupid moose mouth that _he’d never done this before._ His father had never been the kind of person he’d wanted to introduce anyone to, and yeah, fair, he’d never actually kept anyone around long enough that it had been an issue. But now…well fuck. Sam was all he had left. Sam had to like Cas. He had to. Dean didn’t know what he’d do if the two most important people in his life didn’t get along.

Pam was already waiting when they walked in to the pub. The blonde waitress gave Dean a flirtatious smile as she led them to the table, a smile he barely registered as he laced his fingers with Cas’ and tried to look like he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. He did notice the sharp look Cas gave her, though, and she blushed furiously as she noticed their close posture and their intertwined hands. Dean and Cas dropped into seats on one side of the table.

“Castiel, how’s it shakin?” Pam smiled as she greeted them, but even her smile could be intimidating if you didn’t know her well enough to read her face. For a second, Dean thought his boyfriend was going to shrink away from her enthusiasm, but he squinted just briefly as though he was weighing his options and then grinned as he responded.

“How’s the burn?” he asked, and the sarcastic smirk that graced his face as he spoke wouldn’t have looked out of place on Dean’s own mouth. He squeezed Cas’s hand encouragingly, feeling a little swell of pride. Pam barked a laugh.

“Oh sweetie, it takes a lot more than a little fire to slow me down.”

“Yeah, I imagine a stake to the heart, maybe? Silver bullets?”

“Oh Dean, I like him.” Pam replied, but her eyes were on Cas. “You should keep this one.”

“I plan to,” Dean said, glancing up as Charlie approached and took the seat across from Castiel.

“What’s up, bitches?” She grinned. “Where’s the brother?”

“Should be here any minute. We probably should have invited your brother too, Cas.” Dean unlinked his fingers from Cas’ to pick up his menu.

“That’s not necessary. You can bring Sam over for dinner another night while he’s in town, perhaps. He can meet Gabriel then if you want.” The blonde waitress came back around to take their drink orders just as Sam approached, grinning at his brother as he took the open seat at the head of the table. They ordered a round of beer, and Dean took one last calming breath as she retreated.

“So, Cas, this giant moose of a human being is my little brother Sam. Sam, meet Castiel.” Cas forced eye contact, taking in the new arrival’s face, noting the family resemblance and the striking differences between the two Winchester men before extending his hand for a handshake.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Sam offered, and it sounded sincere. He ignored the hand and stood, coming around to Cas’s side of the table. “Forget the handshake. I think this calls for a hug.” Cas grimaced, giving Dean a look that managed to say _do I have to?_ And Dean just shrugged in reply, because his brother was such a sap sometimes. Cas wasn’t a small guy but he seemed tiny to the eye as Sam’s long arms wrapped around his shoulders. Cas embraced Sam awkwardly in return and he looked visibly relieved when the moment ended and Sam returned to his chair. “So you’re an accountant?”

“That is correct. Although certain people in my life have spent a great deal of time lately convincing me that I am not my job. So I suppose it’s more accurate to say I _work_ as an accountant.” Dean couldn’t help noticing the proud smile on Charlie’s face as Cas gave his reply. He was suddenly incredibly grateful for the perky redhead.

“Sounds like you have some smart friends,” Sam said, smiling. “Well, since Dean’s already told me the whole messy story of how you met, I have just one question.” Dean flinched. He had been hoping Sam wouldn’t specifically mention that conversation. Cas didn’t like the story very much. Didn’t think it was the most ‘auspicious’ of beginnings, as he put it. Dean had to look that word up when Cas first said it.

“And what’s that?” Cas asked. If he was as nervous about this as Dean was, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.

“Original Trilogy or Prequels?”

 

Several beers and an in-depth conversation about why the writing for Padme Amidala was one of the worst things ever to happen to the Star Wars franchise later, Dean had to admit that all his fears about introducing Cas to his brother were wholly unfounded. Cas was a big enough geek that the two had plenty to talk about, and Charlie seemed completely in her element in the conversations as well. Dean and Pam shared an entire language of eye rolls and confused facial expressions as the three let their freak flags fly, pausing only briefly to eat.

“What, no salad?” Dean teased his brother, eyeing the monstrous burger the waitress sat down in front of him.

“It’s a chicken burger, Dean. I’m allowed to indulge a little. I _am_ on vacation after all.” Sam shot him a patented bitch-face as he scraped mayonnaise off the bun with his knife and reassembled the sandwich.

“Right. That’s an indulgence. OK then.” Dean sank his teeth into his own proper burger, made from actual cows and covered with cheese and bacon and onions. “I’ll never understand your food choices, Sammy.”

“That’s because you eat like a teenager. I’ve never seen anyone pack away so much fried crap. Honestly, I’d be worried about my heart if I were you.”

“My heart’s in good hands, Sam,” Dean replied, not thinking. “I’ve got Cas to look after it now.” The entire table replied with a resounding “awwwwww”, and Dean blushed, realizing how fucking corny that sounded. “Right. Um. I mean. Nevermind. You know what, fuck you guys.” He tried to brush it off, tried to deflect, but when he looked over at Cas he was blushing furiously and the smile that was plastered across his face made the embarrassment worth it. Dean returned his own smile and decided to stop trying to save face. After all, it wasn’t entirely untrue.

 

By the time the plates were cleared from the table, Pam was decidedly drunk. She’d switched from beer to whiskey, and the sarcastic wit that made up the majority of her personality had become louder and somewhat more aggressive.

“Ooh, do you know what we should do?” She practically shouted, interrupting whatever Charlie was trying to say. “We should go dancing!”

“No,” Dean replied firmly. “Hell no.” Castiel shook his head in agreement.

“Oh come on…It’ll be fun! You two lovebirds can get all touchy-feely on the dance floor, we’ll do some shots, it’ll be a blast!”

“Pam, honestly…” Charlie rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Sam interjected. “Why don’t we not do that.” Pam glared at him across the table.

“You suck, Sam.”

“Your idea sucks. No one wants to go clubbing.”

“Fine. No clubbing.” Pam managed to pout and glare at the same time. It was a truly singular talent she possessed.

“We could pick up some more beer, though,” Cas suggested. “My brother is probably out, but even if he’s not we can certainly continue the evening at my apartment.”

“This.” Pam exclaimed. “This is a good idea. We should do this.” It was quickly agreed upon. Cas’ apartment was a short walk from their current location and Dean felt comfortable leaving the Impala where it was (which was convenient, as he had already had several more beers than he originally planned on and was in no condition to move the thing anyway), so the crew determined they’d make the twenty minute walk, stop to pick up booze on the way.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Castiel said softly as he pushed his chair back from the table. “I just need to…” he pointed vaguely in the direction of the bathrooms before walking off. Dean was pretty sure he was drunk, as he’d managed to keep up with Dean’s own alcohol consumption, but he neither slurred nor stumbled so it was hard to tell. Dean himself felt fine, if a little buzzed. Buzzed and happy. The evening had gone much better than he’d expected. Much better than he dared to hope. Sam and Cas got along just fine, there was no awkwardness, no weird silences in the conversation. He felt pretty damned proud of himself, all things considered.

“So Cas is pretty great,” Sam beamed, clapping his brother on the back proudly. “You’ve picked a good one.”  
“Yeah, yeah he’s awesome,” Dean agreed. “I don’t even fucking know how I got so lucky.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Charlie interjected. “You guys would never have gotten together if it weren’t for me and Pam. I mean seriously, if I hadn’t got Cas’ number without him knowing, you’d never have seen him again.”

“And I gotta thank you for that, seriously. I could kiss you.” Dean made an embarrassing kissy-face at Charlie, who cringed and pushed him away.

“Ugh, no thanks. Just your undying gratitude will do.”

“Ok, fair deal,” Dean conceded, standing up and throwing his leather jacket back over his shoulders. He wished for a moment he’d brought something warmer. It was going to be chilly out tonight. The sky was clear and there had been a definite wind picking up when they arrived.

“He’s totally not the kind of guy I’d expected,” Sam said. “When you told me he was different, I expected like, not out of the closet, or has never watched Star Wars. That kind of different.”

“Yeah, it’s true.” Dean beamed as he spoke. “He’s just this weird, dorky little guy, you know? Totally not the kind of guy I usually date.”

“I wouldn’t call what you usually do ‘dating’, Dean.” Sam made air quotes as he spoke. “It’s more like emotionally stunted socializing with a side of empty sex.”

“And that’s why I’m personally surprised its lasted this long. Like seriously, how have I gone this long without fucking it up?”

“You did, Dean. Or have you forgotten? You fucked it up before it even got started. Maybe you just needed to get the stupid out of your system in advance?” Charlie offered helpfully. She had her jacket on and was ready to walk out the door.

“Hope so. I mean, he bakes me pies. What the hell else does a guy need? Cas is a fucking keeper. Where is he, anyway?”

 

Cas washed his hands and grimaced. The washroom had one of those hot air driers. Entirely unsanitary. He was of the opinion that all public restrooms should have proper hand towels. He waved his hands under the underpowered airflow impatiently, in a hurry to get back to his friends and continue what had proven to be an entirely enjoyable evening. Sam had turned out to be excellent company. He wasn’t sure what Dean had been so worried about. Castiel had connected quite easily with his boyfriend’s younger brother as they had a decent amount of common ground and besides, Sam was a genuinely nice person. As the restroom door swung shut behind him, Cas smiled to himself, dodging other drunk patrons as he made his way back to the table. He approached to the sound of Sam’s voice.

“He’s totally not the kind of guy I’d expected,” Sam said. “When you told me he was different, I expected like, not out of the closet, or has never watched Star Wars. That kind of different.”

“Yeah, it’s true,” he heard Dean reply, and he froze where he stood, just far enough around the corner that he wasn’t seen but close enough to hear every word with crystal clarity. “He’s just this weird, dorky little guy, you know? Totally not the kind of guy I usually date.”

“I wouldn’t call what you usually do ‘dating’, Dean.” A cold weight settled into Cas’ gut as he listened. “It’s more like emotionally stunted socializing with a side of empty sex.”

“And that’s why I’m personally surprised its lasted this long.” Dean’s voice replied. Cas didn’t bother standing around to hear another word. He turned on his heel and walked out of the pub, leaving his trench coat behind. Hot tears blossomed in his eyes as the cold night air stung his face, wind whipping around his legs as he hit the sidewalk and tried to get his bearings. Cas jammed his hands in the pockets of his slacks and set a reckless pace. He should have known better. Should never have gotten his hopes up. This is why he didn’t date. You let people in and they break you. Cas couldn’t even bring himself to be angry as he stormed down the street, hunching his shoulders against the early spring chill. He knew he should be welling up with anger, seething at the cruelty. He choked back a sob as he turned the corner. Cas’ shoulder brushed against someone else’s and he stumbled, but he didn’t look up, didn’t move aside, didn’t acknowledge. He just wanted to get home.

He shouldn’t even be surprised, he reasoned. Dean was far out of his league, gorgeous and charismatic, those amazing eyes and that smile and the easy charm that made people flock to him. Cas didn’t understand how he’d ever convinced himself that Dean could truly care about him. The fact that he’d disappeared while Cas was sleeping after their first night together should have thrown up all sorts of red flags. Cas never should have called him. He never should have let himself get entangled. Should have just deleted Dean’s contact as soon as Charlie sent it his way.

Cas wasn’t feeling even a little bit better by the time he reached his apartment door. He was feeling actually rather worse. He sent up a silent prayer that Gabriel would be out, hoping that he could retreat to his room in peace with a bottle of whatever he could find in the kitchen to drown his sorrows in, but it was not to be. As soon as the door opened, he was greeted warmly by the older Novak, but the cheer on Gabriel’s face faded instantly as he took in Castiel’s tear-stained cheeks and forlorn appearance.

“What the hell happened to you? Where’s Dean?” Gabe asked, the concern clear in his voice.

“Dean is….I don’t want to talk about Dean.” Cas replied, deflated.

“I’m sure it’s not anywhere near as bad as you think, Cas. C’mon, tell me what happened.” Gabriel wrapped a protective arm around Cas’ shoulders and drew him toward the couch. Cas sank in to the cushions with leaden heaviness, dropping his wallet and cell phone on the table like he’d forgotten he was even holding them. They sat in silence for a moment before Cas found the words to speak.

“I…I overheard him talking to his brother about me. I had gone to the restroom, he didn’t know I could hear. It was horrible. He doesn’t care about me, Gabe. It’s just about the sex. I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Oh Cassie…” Gabe cooed. “Did you talk to him?” Cas shook his head.

“No, I just left.”

“As, you fuckin idiot. You should call him, he’s probably still wondering where you went.”

“Weren’t you listening? _He doesn’t care_!” Cas stood up from the couch. “I’m going to bed, Gabe. I just want this day to be over.” Gabriel watched his baby brother drag his feet across the floor as he walked away, feeling helpless and utterly confused. He was certain his brother had read the situation wrong. Mister Worst Case Scenario all over again. It wasn’t until he had fixed himself a drink and returned to the couch that his eyes fel on Cas’ abandoned cell phone and he realized he wasn’t quite so helpless afterall.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, two chapters in one day? What the actual fuck? But I felt bad about where I left it off and I don't want to leave you with sads for too long, so here's another update. Please don't hate me! Also this story COULD probably end here, but I have more that I want to write about these lil shits so there's going to be at least two more chapters to come. Thanks for sticking around for this crazy ride!

“Seriously, is the men’s room in rural China? How long is he gonna be in there?” Pam scowled as she grew impatient. It was a bit unusual, Dean had to admit. Cas had been gone a good twenty minutes. They’d already paid their tabs and Cas still hadn’t returned.

“I’m gonna go check on him. Maybe there’s a line?” Dean told the crowd as he turned towards the sign marked “restrooms.” He was sure he’d see Cas coming down the hallway as soon as he turned the corner, but the hall was empty. And so was the mens room. All the stalls stood open and Cas was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d missed him in the crowd? Dean returned to his friends, confused.

“He’s not in there. Did he come out here while I was looking?” Sam shook his head. “What the hell? Where the fuck is Cas?” Dean pulled out his phone, but was greeted with a blank screen. Cas hadn’t called or sent him a message. So what the fuck? He was just about to drop the phone back is his pocket when it rang.

“Guys, shut up, Cas is calling me,” he demanded, accepting the call and lifting the phone to his ear. “Cas, where did you go? Did something happen?”

“Guess again, loverboy,” came Gabriel’s voice over the line. “I don’t know what the hell you said, but Cas overheard just enough to get what I assume is entirely the wrong impression.”

“Shit.” He murmured. “What did he say?”

“Said something about you just being in to him for the sex, and then he locked himself in his room. You better get your ass over here and get on damage control. You know, unless he’s not overreacting?” Gabriel’s tone was jovial, but Dean knew enough about being the older brother to read the unspoken threat behind the joke. _If you actually said what he thinks you said,_ Gabriel implied, _I will end you myself._

“I’ll be there as fast as I can, Gabe. Don’t let him leave. Shit. Fuck. I’m on my way.” Dean hung up the phone and met the questioning eyes of his friends.

“What the hell, Dean?” Charlie squeaked.

“Cas overheard just about enough of our conversation to get entirely the wrong idea. From what he said to Gabriel, I guess he heard the part where I’ve never had a real relationship, and the part where he’s not like people I usually hook up with, and he missed all the endearing bits. I gotta go. Sam, you got my spare key? I can’t promise what time I’ll make it home tonight.” Dean gave his brother a sheepish grin. This was either going to end in epic make-up sex, or Dean was going to need a whole lot of scotch to drown his failure in.

“Yeah Dean, I’m good. Go rescue your prince.”

 

Dean started off at a brisk walk, but after about a block he found himself running. The cold air burned his lungs and he was painfully aware of how long it had been since he’d done anything more athletic than vigorous sex. His pace didn’t flag though, not until he skidded to a halt outside Cas and Gabe’s building. Gabriel buzzed him in without a word and was waiting at the door when he reached their floor.

“Is he still in his room?” Dean asked, breathless, as Gabe opened the door and let him in to the apartment. Gabe’s eyes immediately fell to Cas’ trench-coat, draped over Dean’s arm. “What? He left it behind. He’d be pissed if he lost this coat.” Dean hung it gently on the hook by the door.

“Yeah Dean-o, he hasn’t come out. Full disclosure, he’s um…pretty volatile when he gets like that. I’ve known him to take a swing at me on occasion when I’ve pissed him off.” Dean nodded.

“I can take whatever he’s dishing out. I just need to fix this.” Dean strode across the apartment and knocked on Cas’ door. “Cas? Can you let me in? We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Dean. You’ve already said plenty. I heard everything.” Cas’s voice carried through the door, raw and strained. He’d been crying, Dean noticed. Might still be.

“No, Cas, you didn’t, or you wouldn’t be upset right now. Why don’t you tell me what you heard, and I’ll fill in the blanks.” Dean tried to open the door. Cas hadn’t explicitly invited him in, but he knew this conversation would go easier if Cas could see how earnest he was in person. The concern had to be painted all over his face. Unfortunately, it was locked.

“Yeah, Dean, that’s a great idea. I’ll tell you what I heard and then you can spin it whatever way you want. How stupid do you think I am? You may have fooled me this long, but I won’t let you use me.”

“Cas, seriously. Use you? Do you have any idea how important you are to me? You’re like no one else I’ve ever met! How could you think that?” Dean slumped against the doorframe as he spoke. He hated having this conversation through a barrier.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because you said I was a weird, dorky little guy? And that you were surprised it lasted this long? How long were you going to keep this up, Dean? Just until I found out? Or were you going to get bored and just stop calling me?!”

“Please open the door, Cas. I did say those things, but you are completely missing the context. Yes, I am surprised it’s lasted this long, because I literally cannot comprehend how I deserve you. I’ve never had anything real, Cas. I’m seriously figuring this out as I go.”

“That’s incredibly condescending, Dean. You expect me to just get over the horrible things you said about me just because you don’t know how to be in a functional relationship.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. The problem is not the things I said, the problem is how you’re hearing them. You think you’re this broken person, that there’s all these things wrong with you. But you don’t understand, Cas. I did say you were a weird, dorky little guy, because you are. You use words I don’t understand and you make math jokes and don’t understand them either but they make you happy so they make me happy. You’re a grumpy asshole first thing in the morning. You get freaked out about things that I don’t even notice, you blurt out completely random things and I don’t even know why sometimes, and you think you’re broken but you’re _not_. There are all these things you look at and you say, ‘that’s what’s wrong with me.’ And you think you’re just waiting for someone to come along and love you in spite of these flaws. And I don’t. I can’t put these things aside and---“

“And what Dean?!” Cas bellowed, throwing the door open. Dean couldn’t tell if the livid shade of red that swept across his cheeks was from rage or tears. “What can’t you do? Can’t put up with my shit anymore? Why are you even here?”

“I can’t put these things aside and pretend they’re not there because they’re the things I like best about you!” Dean shouted, hoping Cas wouldn’t interrupt him again. “I don’t like you in spite of your weirdness. I love you because of it!!!” Cas froze in the middle of turning to slam the door again. He spun to face Dean, his face a mask of confusion, like he didn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yeah. You heard me. I’m not here to apologise because I meant every word of it. You’re a weird, dorky little guy, but I’m hoping you’ll keep being _my_ weird, dorky little guy. And I’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than two months, but I’ve also never had anyone like you before, so I’ve never had a relationship I _wanted_ to last longer than that. Now will you stop staring at me like I’ve got two heads? I’m sorry you caught half the conversation and it hurt you, but I promise you, I was talking about how great you are.” Dean raised a hand, slowly and with trepidation, and when Cas didn’t flinch or slam the door in his face, he carried the motion forward and caressed the side of Cas’ face. Too stunned to be angry any longer, Cas couldn’t resist nuzzling into the gesture. His eyes closed of their own volition as he drank in the warmth of Dean’s hand and let relief wash over him, processing the words slowly and carefully. Finally, he spoke.

“You…you love me?” It was Dean’s turn to freeze.

“Yeah, I guess I did say that. Didn’t really think about it in advance, but honestly? Yes. You’re the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t let this be the thing that fucks it up, please?” Cas opened his eyes as Dean spoke, fixing him with an unwavering stare that was thoroughly unreadable. After a moment he leaned past Dean to yell down the hallway.

“Gabriel?! I know you’re listening!” Gabe slunk out of his bedroom with a look of mock shame on his face. Dean suspected he’d heard every single word. “You may wish to make yourself scarce this evening. “I suspect you will wish to avoid hearing what I plan to do to this man.” Dean’s eyes widened as he took in the look on Cas’ face. He’d seen that predatory gleam in his own eyes on occasion, and he knew exactly what it meant.

“Say no more, Cassie. Please, seriously, say no more. Glad you got your head out of your ass. You’re welcome, by the way,” he sassed, waving Cas’ phone in his face. “Think last call is late enough for you two love-birds, or should I go find a couch to crash on?”

“Honestly? Lemme text you my address. Go grab yourself a bottle and hang out with my brother. You probably don’t wanna come back here tonight,” Dean teased, pulling his phone out of his pocket and firing off a quick message. He sent one to Sam, too, explaining that things were fine but he wasn’t going to make it home and he was sending Cas’ brother over. He hoped that would be explanation enough.

_Good 4u Dean. Txt me tomorrow and we’ll do breakfast. Tell Castiel’s brother to bring booze._

Sam’s reply came quickly. He must have been waiting for Dean to check in.

“You’re good to go, Gabriel. Thanks for the call to arms. I owe you one.” Dean smiled warmly at the older Novak, who was already wearing shoes and grabbing his jacket as he headed to the door.

“Think nothing of it. I’ve been meddling in this kid’s life long enough to know when he needs a little bit of guidance, and when he needs to be clobbered over the head by the thing that’s staring him right in the face. Have fun clobbering, you two,” Gabriel called over his shoulder as he strolled out the apartment door looking mighty pleased with himself. Dean locked the deadbolt behind him, then turned to face Cas.

“So, I take it I’m out of the doghouse?” Dean asked hopefully. The smile that crept onto his lips was sheepish and shy. The last thing he wanted was to scare Cas of now when he’d just (he hoped) fixed things. Cas nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes,” he replied, “but if you don’t get over here and kiss me _right now_ , you might be back in there.” Dean didn’t need to be told twice. Their lips crashed together harshly, fueled by the adrenaline of their first fight. Dean’s pulse still raced, from his harried flight in pursuit of Cas’ good opinion and from the intensity of their argument, and Cas’ hands pawing furiously at his clothing did nothing to slow it down. He funnelled everything into that kiss, all the fear and the desperation and the adoration and the love he’d felt in the short timespan since he’d left the pub manifesting itself in the crush of their lips and the caress of his tongue. Cas moaned against his mouth, pressing their bodies close together with hands pressed to Dean’s lower back, grinding his hips against Dean’s in a slow and sultry roll.

“So I can’t…..help but notice…that you said…you had plans for me?” Dean pulled his lips away from Cas’, punctuating his speech with feverish kisses down his neck.

“Yes,” Cas sighed. His hands roamed across Dean’s chest, pushing up the hem of his tee-shirt to play at the warm skin hidden beneath.

“Plan on letting me in on what those plans are?” Dean asked teasingly as he sucked a purple mark on Cas’ neck, revelling in the delicious noises the other man made in response.

“Well I thought we’d move to the bedroom at some point, Ah Jesus!!” Dean let his hand rove downwards to palm at Cas’ cock through his slacks. “And then, if you’re amenable,” he groaned, grinding his hips against Dean’s hand. “I thought I might like to um…” Cas paused his sentence to let out a breathy moan as Dean’s tongue played at the mark he’d just left on Cas’ throat. “I’d like to top.” The words came out in a hurry, like Cas thought he might not be able to make himself say them. Dean made a sound in his throat, low and breathy, before diving in to kiss Cas with renewed fervor. He devoured Cas’ lips with tongue and teeth, kissing him breathless before claiming Cas’ lower lip between his teeth and tugging on it just enough to elicit a gasp.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Cas asked through kiss-swollen lips, his voice breathless and airy.

“Fucking right you will,” Dean confirmed. “Jesus Christ Cas, just..yes.” Cas pulled himself free of Dean’s arms reluctantly to lead the way to his bedroom. He shed his clothes as he went, leaving a trail of shirt and tie and pants that Dean added to in kind, so that by the time they reached the bedroom neither man was wearing anything but underwear. Dean dropped his the second they reached the room. Cas drew a deep breath as he drank in the sight of him.

“Fuck you’re perfect. Just, look at you. Beautiful.” Cas dropped his own underwear and pulled Dean in with an outstretched arm, guiding him onto the bed and climbing on after him.

“Shut up, you’re making me blush.” Dean replied before dropping his head to mouth at Cas’ nipple. “Besides, have you seen you? You’re fucking perfect.”

“Hmm, I don’t think this is an argument either of us is going to win.” Cas nudged Dean’s legs apart with a knee. “Have you ever…?” He asked, trailing off, letting his eyes ask the rest of the question.

“Yeah. Not in a while though. But I want this” Cas laughed softly as he knelt between Dean’s thighs, wiggling himself down the bed until he could lie on his belly and mouth at Dean’s inner thighs.

“Of course, Dean,” he murmured, pressing wet kisses to Dean’s thighs, letting his tongue dart out to flick teasingly at his cock, dragging just the gentlest brush of lips across Dean’s balls as he moved. “Anything you want.” Cas dragged a flat tongue up the underside of Dean’s dick, tasting the salty bead of precome forming at the tip as he flicked across. He heard Dean rummaging in his night stand and reached out a hand for the bottle of lube he knew would be offered momentarily. As soon as he had it, Cas took the head of Dean’s cock in his mouth, sucking lightly and dragging his tongue gently around and around before sinking down to take as much length into his mouth as he could. Dean groaned his approval as Cas’s lips slicked up and down his cock, moving oh so slowly. Cas took him deep once more, then pulled his lips away and propped himself up on one arm to open the bottle of lube. He hitched one of Dean’s legs up over his shoulder and dragged a slick finger gently across the pink puckered hole. Dean whined desperately at the intrusion as he slid just the first knuckle in. Cas delighted in the beautiful sounds pouring from Dean’s lips as he pushed and teased, watching enthusiastically as Dean opened up around him.

“God Dean, you have no idea what it does to me, hearing you like this.” Cas added a second finger and a little more lube, pushing in oh so carefully and pausing for a second to allow Dean to get used to the added stretch. “Can’t wait to hear what you sound like when you’re on my dick.”

“Fuck, Cas! Where did you learn to talk like that?!” Dean whimpered. His back arched and his hands grasped pointlessly at the sheets, and Cas just laughed softly in response.

“I’ve had a pretty good teacher the last few months.” The drag of his fingers was slow and agonizing, but soon Dean started to relax and he added a third finger. Dean cried out almost immediately and began trying to push back. “Shh, be still,” Cas murmured. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it, Cas,” Dean begged. “Please, I need you!”

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, concerned. His fingers brushed against Dean’s prostate almost accidentally, and Dean let out a strangled cry that reminded Cas of how desperately hard he was, trapped between the bed and his body. “Fuck, Dean, ok, I got you. Just…I’ll go slow.” Cas climbed up on to his knees and rolled on a condom, pausing for a moment to revel in the glorious sight of Dean laid out before him, chest heaving and flushed. He lined himself up with Dean’s slick hole and pressed in inch by agonizing inch, groaning in pleasure at the perfect heat of Dean’s body wrapped around him. “You’re so fucking tight Dean. Fuck!” he breathed as he bottomed out, and leaned down to press his body against Dean’s and line their lips up on a heady kiss. Cas began to roll his hips slowly and carefully. His first thrusts were shallow and gentle. He was still afraid he was going to hurt Dean, didn’t want a single thing to ruin the beauty of this moment. But then Dean hooked his legs around Cas’ waist, drawing him close and arching his hips up, and something snapped.

Cas moaned against Dean’s mouth as his hips snapped forward, turning the sweet and tender rhythm into a rough, raw grind. Dean’s own hips matched his rhythm, and soon it was anything but sweet. Cas’ hips slammed into Dean’s with a relentless pace. He knew he wouldn’t last long, not sheathed as he was in the tight heat of Dean, not with Dean writhing beneath him on the mattress, not with the fucking filthy noises coming out of Dean’s mouth. His hips still undulating, still driving him into Dean with an unbreaking rhythm, Cas reached a hand between them to wrap slick fingers around his lover’s leaking cock. He worked Dean in time with their hips, knowing that Dean must be close. His moans and whimpers had degraded to one long keening and his hands grasped desperately at any part of Castiel he could reach.

“Cas…” he moaned, his hands pressing bruises into Dean’s biceps. “So good, fuck Cas…I’m gonna…”

“Do it,” Cas commanded, not slowing for a second as he careened towards the edge. “Come for me, Dean, do it. Fuck, you feel so good!” Cas’ voice broke and his hips stuttered as his own orgasm blanked his vision and sent waves of pleasure through every inch of his body. Dean followed him almost immediately, spilling over Cas’ hand and his own belly, choked moans tumbling from his lips as every muscle in his body tensed. Cas allowed himself a few more thrusts, chasing the last vestiges of the ecstasy they shared before collapsing on the bed beside Dean. He cleaned them off as best he could with a discarded tee-shirt and then wrapped his arms around Dean and held him close. Dean’s breathing slowed gradually as he came down from his fucked-out high, and he snuggled closer to Cas as he returned to himself.

“Dean?” Cas inquired, not sure if he’d fallen asleep in the intervening silence.

“Yeah Cas,” Dean replied sleepily.

“I love you too.” Cas said, and the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him was the feeling of Dean’s lips pressing gently on the sweat of his brow.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned for this to end here, but I have this little bit of an epilogue spinning around in my brain and it's too perfect so I'm gonna do it. Two more chapters to go! Thank you all sooooo much for your kudos and your kind words, you make me have happy squishy feelings!!

Dean rolled over as he drifted in to consciousness on Saturday morning, his eyes bleary with lack of sleep. Or at least he tried to roll over, but his arm was firmly pinned under the weight of Cas who was most certainly not awake. Dean pressed his lips to Cas’ forehead and the sleeping man stirred slightly, curling his body towards Dean’s warmth.

“Morning,” Cas purred. His eyes remained closed against the weak light streaming in through his bedroom window. Dean brushed the knuckles of his free hand against the curve of Cas’ jaw, watching with wonder at the small smile that asserted itself on his boyfriend’s lips.

“Hey,” Dean responded. “Can I have my arm back?”

“No, it’s mine now. I’m keeping it.”

“Ok but counter offer?” Dean kissed Cas full on the lips, soft and teasing, letting his own body shift and turn until they were pressed as close as possible.

“I’m listening,”

“You let me have my arm back, and we take our respective brothers out for breakfast. I’m thinking the diner I took you to that first night.” Cas grumbled.

“I don’t wanna get out of bed. It’s warm in here. Besides, isn’t it way too early for breakfast.”  
“I have no idea,” Dean admitted. “Because some asshole has my damn arm held hostage, and I think my phone is wherever my pants are, and you don’t have a fucking clock in here. But I feel like it’s light enough in here that it’s probably food time. My stomach says so.” Dean tugged at his arm with comical exaggeration before flopping back on the bed with false exhaustion. He probably could have freed himself if he really wanted to.

“Ugh, fine,” Cas groaned as he relinquished his hold on Dean’s arm, propping his body up on one hand long enough that Dean could yank his arm away. He moved with little haste at all, sitting up in a fluid motion and then just pausing there for several breaths before twisting back around to gaze at Cas.

“So…” Dean said, his voice suddenly hesitant. “Are we good?”

“Yes, Dean. We’re good.” Cas smiled as he spoke.

“You’re sure?”

“Did you mean everything you said last night?” Cas’ words hung in the air for a moment, coiling guilt in Dean’s gut. Cas shouldn’t need to ask; he should have made it obvious by now.

“Every fucking syllable,” he asserted. “Every word. Every breath. And I will spend every goddamned day proving it to you until you understand that you deserve it.” Cas dropped his eyes to the bedspread, suddenly enrapt at toying with a stray thread. His slender fingers tugged and twisted the short strand like he could channel all the tension of the moment into its structure. Like he could make it a receptacle for his overwhelming emotions. Dean reached out to stroke the back of his hand, stilling the nervous motion with the soothing gesture. Cas froze. “Look at me, Cas.” Cas raised his eyes slowly. Dean’s other hand came up to hover briefly before cupping Cas’ jaw.

“I love you,” Dean said, his voice proud and clear, and if there was any part of Cas that doubted the honesty of the words he was hearing, the bare reverence on Dean’s face would have been enough to disabuse him of those false notions. “I love you,” he said again, this time with a ferocity to his voice. He laid claim to Castiel with those three words, announcing for anyone who cared to hear that Castiel was _his,_ and that he was Castiel’s so long as Castiel would have him. Cas’ eyes were bright with unshed tears as he stared back into Dean’s but a soft smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

“I love you too, Dean,” he replied, and suddenly the words didn’t seem sufficient. Cas wished he knew another language, or ten other languages, because English didn’t seem to contain enough words to express the depth of it. So instead he leaned in and kissed Dean, letting the insistent pressure of his lips speak the volumes his words couldn’t say.

“Ok so we’re good then,” Dean stated needlessly. If he’d had any doubts that he was forgiven for his part in the previous night’s debacle, the kiss would easily have cured them.

“Yes,” Cas replied with exasperation. “I should think that would be obvious by now.”

“Great. So let’s go get pancakes.”

 

Gabriel and Sam already occupied a booth when they arrived at the diner. Gabriel’s hands curled posessively around a mug of coffee, like he worried that if he abandoned it for even a second, someone would take it away and he’d be forced to face the morning light without the support of caffeine. Dean understood the sentiment. Sam sat on the same side of the booth as Gabriel, leaving the other bench free for Dean and Castiel to sit side by side. His long legs stuck out in to the checkerboard aisle as he slumped in his seat.

“You two look like shit,” Dean announced as they sat. He didn’t bother to open his menu; there was no point. He knew exactly what he would order. Cas did the same, he noticed with a smile.

“Gabriel is competitive,” Sam replied woodenly, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders hunched. Except for the hangover he looked like little kid Sammy again, defensive and small and in desperate need of a haircut.

“Hey, when I suggested a drinking game, you didn’t have to agree. How is it my fault that there was a CSI Miami marathon on?” Gabriel drank deeply from his coffee mug before setting it down with disappointment on his face. He seemed surprised to find it empty. Sam glared at him side-eyed.

“ _Drink every time Horatio is cheesy and stupid_ is not a drinking game, it’s a recipe for death and suffering, Gabriel. I thought I hated that show before, but I now have a new understanding of suffering. When I die, that will be my personal hell. An eternity of CSI Miami reruns and cheap bourbon.”

“Oh, ‘cause I was worried you two wouldn’t get along. Good. Excellent. So glad to see you hit it off.” Both brothers glared at Dean, although neither had the energy to put much conviction in to it.

“Sam’s an ok kid,” Gabriel admitted.

“I’m getting a motel next time I come visit,” Sam grumbled. “I fucking hate your couch.”

“So you kids are ok, then?” Gabe asked, shifting the focus of the conversation off of the two incredibly hungover siblings on one side of the table and on to the accountant and the mechanic holding hands on the other.

“I…I should apologise for my behavior last night,” Cas replied. “I over-reacted. Thank you for stepping in, Gabriel. I don’t usually appreciate your meddling but in this case it really was the right thing. Sam, I’m sorry I stole your visit with your brother.” Sam gave a weak smile in reply.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas. I haven’t seen Dean this happy in…actually ever, so I think I can let you slide on one bad evening. Besides, it was a perfect excuse not to go clubbing with Pam.”

“Oh shit Dean!” Castiel exclaimed. “Pam. Charlie. They’re gonna be so mad.” Dean laughed.

“Pam’s pretty much always mad, Cas. She’ll be fine. But um, yeah, you should probably talk to Charlie. You know she’s probably freaking out right now.” Cas pulled his phone out of his pocket as the waitress came around to take their orders. Her nametag identified her as Nancy and Dean was quietly aware that she was the same bottle-red Nancy that served them the night he met Cas. He didn’t bother mentioning it because it didn’t matter, but it made him smile.

Cas focused on his phone for a few minutes after Nancy walked away with their orders, reading and typing by turns until apparently satisfied with the results. He dropped the phone on the table unceremoniously and started adding his ridiculous quantity of condiments to the coffee Nancy poured.

“Charlie is happy to hear that things are well, but she did not hesitate to point out that I perhaps should wear a bell if I’m going to be in the habit of listening to half a conversation and then running away. She also says that she thought what you had to say last night was ‘pretty fucking cute,’ and that I should maybe cut you a break because you’re kind of a catch.” Dean preened and threw an arm around Cas’ shoulder with a laugh.

“She’s right. I am a fucking catch.”

 

After breakfast, Dean dropped the brothers Novak off at their apartment. Sam grumbled about being relegated to the back seat of the Impala, his knees jammed up against the seat back and his head dangerously close to brushing the ceiling.

“Cas gets shotgun and that’s final,” Dean told him as they climbed into their respective seats. Sam’s mood had improved only slightly with breakfast and caffeine and his brother suspected that they wouldn’t get up to much of anything at all that afternoon, which suited him just fine. The drive to Cas’ place wasn’t exactly far, so as much as Sam complained it’s not like his legs had time to cramp up. His relief was exaggerated when Dean pulled up to the curb in front of Cas and Gabe’s building. Gabe and Sam made a show of walking a few paces away as their brothers put on a public display of affection that, while tame compared to some of their previous entanglements, was still a little too much for either spectator to bear with good nature.

“Jesus Christ boys, hands off the merchandise. I just ate.” Gabe cackled at his own humour but he did smile affectionately at the goofy grin on his younger brother’s face when they finally broke away.

“You’ll have to come over for dinner one night before you leave town, Sam. We’ll arrange something. It’s been good to meet you.” Cas hugged the taller Winchester awkwardly, still embarrassed by the drama he’d been party to the night before, but Sam seemed content to let it all slide like water under the bridge, so he didn’t bring it up. Dean and Gabe did not hug but there was a nod of acknowledgement between them, an unspoken ‘I accept you because you matter to Castiel,’ and for now that was good enough.

 

As Dean and Sam climbed back into the Impala and pulled away from the curb, Sam laughed softly.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Dean barked defensively.

“You two are so goddamned cute,” he replied, dragging a hand through his messy hair and slouching into the seat.

“Shut up, Sammy.”  
“I’m serious. It’s a good thing. It’s nice to see you happy. I was starting to wonder if you were actually capable of it. Like maybe my big brother was wired wrong and you didn’t get the happiness sub-routine.”

“I’m not a fucking robot, bitch.” Dean snapped, but his heart wasn’t in it. He smiled in spite of himself, reaching over to give his brother a playful shove.

“No, apparently you’re not, jerk. I really like Cas though. He’s good people.” Dean nodded his agreement.

“Yup. He’s exactly what I needed,” Dean stated firmly, and he meant it.


	16. Epilogue: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I retract my earlier statement. The epilogue is probably going to be three parts. I can't keep a promise.

“How exactly is it possible that you have fourteen goddamned weeks of vacation saved up, Cas? Do you not ever take time off?” Dean could not keep the incredulity out of his voice. “How many weeks a year do you even get? When’s the last time you took a day off?”

“I get four weeks a year, but no, I never take time off. There’s never anywhere I need to be. It hasn’t seemed necessary. I don’t see why it matters.” Castiel frowned.

“So you got the time off then?” Dean asked.

“Yes, actually, when Zachariah realized how much time I had banked, he insisted. I’m off for the next month. And he’s forcing me to schedule more time off when I get back. He’s appalled that human resources didn’t notice how long it’s been since I’ve taken a vacation. Apparently there’s a policy around it or something.” Cas rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yes, how dare they make you take vacations. Fucking cruel, if you ask me. Paid time off? The audacity.”

“So are you going to tell me why I’m taking this time off work then?” Castiel dropped onto the couch with a casual air that was so refreshing, especially when compared to the stiff awkward motions that had been his usual behaviour when they first met.

“Nope,” Dean replied. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”  
“I hate surprises,” Cas grumbled.

“I know. But you’ll like this one. I promise. Nothing scary, nothing weird. Just a vacation.”

“Give me a hint?” Cas pleaded.

“Um. Ok, a little one. It’s somewhere we can drive, and I know for a fact it’s somewhere you want to go.” Dean grinned, loving the fact that he had Cas so flustered just over the idea of a vacation.   “I’ve got everything sorted out.”

“That’s not much of a hint,” Cas pointed out. “How will I know what to pack?”

“It’s summer. Bring summer clothes. Whatever you’d wear on the weekend at home this time of year.” Dean shrugged.

“So…nothing then?” Dean turned to face his boyfriend and take in the mischievous curl of his lips.

“No Cas, this is not a naked vacation. Or, ok, well, it’s not completely a naked vacation. There will definitely be sex but you need clothes. Trust me, it’s going to be awesome.”

 

One week later, Cas tossed his overnight bag and a backpack into the trunk of the Impala. A pair of aviator sunglasses perched on top of his permanently mussed hair and that in conjunction with the khaki shorts and rolled sleeves on his blue and white button down combined for an image that Dean had a hard time tearing his eyes away from. He loved it when Cas wore something other than his weekday uniform of suit and tie. Loved to get him out of the accountant persona and bring out the fun side of Cas. He’d come out of his shell so much in the seven months since they met. The Cas he’d met at the bar that night never would have thrown his gear in a car and set off to god only knows where. That Cas probably would have let his vacation accumulate until they forced him to take the time off, actually. Dean was definitely looking forward to seeing what Cas was like when he was forced to actually let loose a little.

“So are you going to tell me anything at all about where we’re going?” Cas asked as Dean revved the engine and popped a tape into the cassette player.

“Not so much. I can tell you that it will take about a day and a half to get there, so we’ll get off the interstate and crash in a motel when we get tired. And also that the Impala doesn’t have air conditioning. Everything else is surprises.” Dean grinned, settling his own sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. He was met with the sound of Cas grunting in disgust.

“A motel?”

“Yes, a motel. We’re just staying there long enough to sleep. It’s happening.”

“I’m no longer excited about this vacation,” Cas announced. He rested an elbow on the windowsill and looked wistfully out the window as Dean wound his way through city streets and closer to the interstate.

“Seriously? A motel, that’s what’s going to ruin it for you?”

“Well it’s literally the only thing I know about it so I don’t see how anything else could be the thing that ruins it.”

“Point taken. But seriously, it’s just a night in a motel. I promise you, it won’t be one of those gross by-the-hour ones. Only the classiest cheap motels for my baby.” Dean peeled his eyes away from the road long enough to flash Cas a winning grin. “Look, don’t worry about it. This is gonna be great.”

“I reserve judgement on that,” Cas replied, but he returned Dean’s smile, so it counted as a win.

 

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of a Super-8 that evening, Castiel had decided three things: being a passenger on a lengthy road trip was one of the most tedious things you could spend an entire day doing, Dean didn’t own anywhere near a large enough assortment of cassette tapes for a trip this long, and there was nothing in the world that could detract from the sheer joy of spending an entire day in Dean’s company, uninhibited by the requirements of day-to-day life. He started the morning off grumpy and grumbling, but Dean had stopped for coffee and doughnuts before they hit the highway and his mood improved substantially when he’d had a chance to consume copious quantities of caffeine. Most of the traffic on the interstate was heading in to town at this time of day, not out, so they made what Dean decided was good time and were ahead of whatever schedule governed their time by midday. Cas had to take Dean’s word on that one, as he still had no idea where they were going. Still, Dean was pleased, and they stopped for lunch shortly after that pronouncement. Sitting on the hood of the Impala with burgers wrapped in paper, Cas tried in vain to speculate on what the vacation held, and Dean laughed as his guesses got more and more ridiculous.

“Hiking in a National Park?” He ventured between bites. Castiel wasn’t usually a fan of fast food, but there was something incredibly satisfying about the combination of meat and cheese in this particular scenario.

“Do I look like I go hiking?” Dean replied dismissively.

“Point taken. That doesn’t seem any more like your cup of tea than it is mine. Um…is there a museum somewhere that we’re going to check out?”  
“That’s…just no. Although I guess there might be a museum somewhere along the way, we could do that if you want. But not what I have planned.” Cas frowned. “You should just stop guessing. I’m not going to tell you even if you get it right. I want to see the look on your face when we get there. It’s going to be priceless.”  
“Because you find my panic face to be incredibly appealing?”

“No, Cas, because you’re going to love it. I am totally sure that you will.”  
“And if I don’t?” Cas finished his burger and balled the paper up, cramming in into the paper sack their food had come in. Dean took a slow sip of his soda before replying.

“Well, then we’ve got a hotel room for three days and nothing to do, so I guess we’ll just have to have a lot of sex in another state.”

“Your backup plan doesn’t suck, at least.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of sex in another state anyway, Cas. Have you ever known me to be keep my hands off of you?” Cas couldn’t see any fault in that logic.

The remainder of the day’s drive was a bit less grumpy on Cas’ part. They ran out of tapes to play so despite some early protestations, Dean fiddled with the dial until he found an agreeable classic rock station. The mix of music was at least in Dean’s spectrum of preference, but it was varied enough that there was some stuff that Cas knew the lyrics to and they sailed down the interstate, windows rolled down just enough for ventilation against the early July heat and stereo cranked as loud as they could bear it. The positive offshoot of the sheer intensity of all the other sounds, as far as Cas was concerned, was that Dean was spared from his frankly terrible singing voice. He rarely sang outside the shower and so far he’d managed to avoid Dean hearing his off-key warbling but on an afternoon like this he couldn’t help but sing along. He was hard-pressed to remember the last time he was this happy. So by the time Dean killed the engine on the Impala, just past five according to the dash clock, he was in such a calm and lighthearted mood that it didn’t even occur to Castiel to be disdainful of the lodgings.

 

Dean dropped his duffle bag just inside the door of the motel room and surveyed the surroundings. Objectively, it wasn’t bad. Clean as far as these places went, and the AC worked which after 9 hours in the Impala was a fucking blessing in anyone’s books. Dean would never, ever, not in a million years, begrudge his baby for not having that particular luxury, but he was beyond thankful to be somewhere that wasn’t metal and black at this exact moment. He glanced at Castiel who, for his earlier grumbling, didn’t seem to be judging the room too harshly. Dean had asked for a king-sized bed for obvious reasons, but aside from that it was just like any other motel room. TV in a cabinet opposite the bed, dresser, bible in the night-stand, coffee maker, bathroom. Simple. Somewhere to lay your head for the night and then forget about.

“So?” He asked, not ready to assume Cas had dropped the grudge just based on first appearances.

“It’s not bad,” he admitted, setting his overnight bag on the floor.

“I told you. I am _dying_ for a shower, and then I figured we’d go grab dinner somewhere? I saw a bbq place a few blocks down the road, maybe we check that out?” Dean tugged the tee-shirt off over his head without waiting to see if Cas agreed. The bathroom looked reasonably clean to Dean’s eyes, so he drew the shower curtain and opened the taps, testing the water with one hand. When he was satisfied with the temperature his hands went to the fly of his jeans. He didn’t realize Cas had followed him into the bathroom until he felt warm, solid hands on his hips and lips on his neck.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, letting his jeans drop to the floor. “You gonna join me?”

“That’s the idea,” Cas shot back , smoothing his hands over Dean’s chest. Dean stepped out of his grasp and into the shower stall, suddenly aware of how gross an entire day in the car had left him feeling. Cas undressed quickly and followed him into the confined space. It was awkward, to be sure, but Dean couldn’t complain, not when it forced him to stand a little bit closer. Not when every move he made caused him to brush against some part of Cas. They washed themselves and each other with quick hands, neither man relishing the idea of sitting much longer with the day’s sweat sitting on their skin. When the last of the soap ran down the drain, Dean pushed Cas gains the cool tiles, licking into his mouth with unhurried ardor as the warm water trailed down their faces and clung to their skin. Cas returned his enthusiasm with lips and tongue, moaning against Dean’s mouth as his hands trailed lazily across the lean musculature of Dean’s chest. The longer they kissed the harder Dean grew, and he could feel Cas’ erection pressing against the meat of his thigh before long. Dean hadn’t intended to take his boyfriend in the shower, not really. But Cas’ hands roamed lower, thumbs grazing against his hip-bones, palms pressing gently and fingers teasing as he explored with touch, and then Cas let his fingers wrap around Dean’s dick and all thoughts of food flew out of his mind. He rocked his hips forward and thrust into Cas’ hand, humming softly in pleasure as Cas set a slow and easy pace.

Dean didn’t resist when Cas’ free hand settled on his hip and nudged him backward. He eased his way off of the wall, careful not to slip on the slick floor of the tub and gently eased Dean back to lean against the wall as he sank down to his knees. Cas’ lips teased at the head of his cock as soon as it was within reach. His tongue darted out to lick at Dean’s length, dragging slowly up the underside. Just the way Dean liked, he thought, reaching out to rake fingers through Cas’ dark hair, now matted to his head under the persistent spray of the shower head. Cas let himself be guided closer and took Dean deep into his mouth, his lips stretching around the girth as he began to move more quickly. Dean felt the heat build in his core as Cas pulled out every trick he knew. He licked and sucked hungrily, taking Dean into his throat as he slipped a hand back to tease at his hole with a wet finger. Dean groaned with pleasure, his breath hitching at the intrusion. His hips bucked as Cas crooked his finger to press on that sweet spot, and before Dean knew it, he was coming, pleasure sparking across his skin as Cas swallowed every drop. He stood up and pressed his mouth to Dean’s for a lengthy kiss, taking the breath right out of Dean’s lungs as he did. Dean reached down to take Cas in hand, ready to reciprocate, but Cas batted him away.

“Dinner. You can return the favour later.” Dean was entirely certain that he would.


	17. Epilogue: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter!! Thank you all so much for following along with this story! I hope i will have the final chapter up in the next few days so please just stay with me a little longer.

The alarm clock, Castiel decided, should be banned from all vacations, travel plans be damned. Dean’s phone blared AC/DC at an unreasonable volume from the nightstand. He tried very hard to ignore it. Maybe if he pretended he was still sleeping, Dean would let him lay in bed another hour. It’s not like they had anything time-sensitive to do, right? He couldn’t be sure, though because Dean wouldn’t even tell him where they were going.

“Wake up, Cas! Time to get our butts in gear!” Dean crowed, full of enthusiasm. Cas couldn’t imagine how he was so chipper at this hour, whatever this hour was. Cas was exhausted. They’d stayed up far later than he’d expected the night before. After dinner at the bbq place Dean had spotted on their way in, they’d returned to the motel with a six-pack of beer and stayed up until midnight watching nature documentaries, sprawled out in their underwear on top of the covers. And then Dean had fucked him so hard he’d gone to sleep worried he wouldn’t be able to bear the car ride that awaited in the morning. Not that Cas was complaining, of course. Not in the slightest. But between the lack of sleep and the less than comfortable mattress, he wasn’t feeling the morning person thing.

“Seriously, Cas, time to mosey. If you get up now, we can stop for real breakfast. If I have to drag you out of bed by your toes you get crap coffee from the continental breakfast and stale muffins.” Cas grumbled and smushed his face into the pillow.

“What time is it, even? Some ungodly hour, I bet. This is cruel.”

“Cas it’s eight. It’s not even that early. Do you want coffee or not?” Dean was already half way to being fully dressed, buttoning yesterday’s jeans over fresh underwear and digging through his duffel for a tee-shirt. He drew out one with a Metallica logo emblazoned on the front and pulled it over his head before turning to stare at Cas with a raised eyebrow.

“Ok, fine,” Cas sighed, throwing back the covers and swinging his feet on to the floor. “But I want pancakes.”

 

Even with Cas’ laziness in the motel room, they were fed and on the road before ten. Cas’ worries about his ass were unfounded he realized as he settled into the passenger seat and perched his sunglasses on his nose. The air was a little cooler this morning for which they were both grateful but Cas knew it would be hot before long, so he’d opted for a thin tee-shirt instead of the dress shirt he’d worn the day before.

“You’re going to have to tell me where we’re going sooner or later, Dean,” he pointed out shortly after they made their way back to the freeway. “I’m going to see road signs eventually.”

“That’s probably true. Burn that bridge when we come to it.” Dean glanced sideways as he spoke, a small smile quirking at the corners of his lips.

“Cross that bridge.” Cas corrected.

“What?”

“It’s ‘cross that bridge when we come to it,’ not burn it. That’s a different thing.”

“I know what I said,” Dean said defensively, but he frowned like he wasn’t entirely sure.

 

By noon, traffic grew heavier. Cas kept his eye on the road signs for an indication of where they were headed. He had suspicions, just based on the general south-westerly direction they were moving in, but he kept them to himself until he saw a sign on the shoulder that all but confirmed.

“You’re not taking me to Las Vegas, are you?” he asked, his voice hesitant. Castiel could think of about a thousand things he wouldn’t want to experience in Vegas, and very few that he would. “I’m not sure I actually have any interest in gambling…” He screwed up his face and tried in vain to avoid his negativity about the entire idea.

“I’m not taking you gambling, Cas. I know you a little bit better than that.” Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Then I’m really not certain why we’re in Vegas,” Cas stated flatly.

“You’ll see.” Dean replied, and he refused to say anything further.

Cas still had his doubts as Dean eased the bulk of the Impala up to the curb outside a hotel Castiel couldn’t quite see the sign of, perched as it was above the doorway. Dean hesitated for a moment before handing the keys to the valet, apprehensive about the idea of letting anyone he hadn’t met and personally vetted and run through a series of increasingly difficult driving tests behind the wheel of his baby. In the end he relented, passing the man his keys with a stern warning to guard her like he would his own first born child and then then slipped the man a generous tip as insurance that he would indeed do so. Cas slung his bag over his shoulder with a wary glance around the lobby as Dean marched up to the front desk to check them in.

The room was spacious and comfortable with all the lavish décor one would expect from a city like Las Vegas, but it was no high-roller suite. It seemed to pass Dean’s approval, however, and he slung his bag onto the floor and then himself on to the bed, kicking off his shoes as he went.

“So I got nothing planned until tomorrow morning. Today is up to you. We can stay in the room and relax, we can go check out the city, we can catch a show, we can go for dinner, we can lounge by the pool, it’s pretty much a blank check until tomorrow.” Cas still hadn’t moved much past the doorway. He stared around in wonder at the extravagance of the room, taking in the minute details of the ornate furnishings, the crystal detailing on the light fixtures.

“This room looks so…” he found himself at a loss for words.

“Over the top?” Dean offered, hauling himself off the bed. He started opening cabinets, stopping only when he found the one that contained the mini bar, and pulled out two cold beers.

“I was going to say expensive,” Cas finished finally, accepting the beer with a grateful nod.

“That’s all show,” Dean explained. “It’s veneer. The furniture is cheap but it’s dressed up. The crystal’s all glass. Everything in Vegas is about pretending you’re something fancier than you are. This is one of the cheaper rooms on the strip.”

“I was worried you’d spent a lot of money on this trip,” Cas admitted.

“Are you kidding me? Midweek rates are dirt cheap. They hope you’ll take a cheap room and then spend more on the casino floor. That’s where they make their money. And since we don’t plan to spend any time there, we’ve already beat the system. Now, are you gonna put your bag down and stop staring at the wallpaper, or do I have to force you to relax?”

“How exactly does one force a person to relax?” Cas replied, a slight combative edge to his voice.

“There’s lots of ways.” Dean smiled as he set his beer down on the dresser and walked over to Cas, taking the bag from his grip and dropping it to the floor. He placed his hands gently on Cas’ hips and pulled him close. “I could kiss you until you forget to be stressed. I could get you drunk. We could go get a massage.” His lips brushed faintly against Cas’ as he spoke and Cas couldn’t help but lean into it, turning the brush in to a tender kiss, deepening as his lips parted to allow Dean’s tongue to dart out and taste the beer on Cas’ breath.

“A massage?” He asked derisively, pulling back from Dean’s lips to speak. Dean dropped his mouth to Cas’ jaw, planting a series of kisses along the stubble before moving to his throat. “Pay a stranger to touch me? No thanks.” Dean huffed a little laugh in response.

“Ok, no spa-days. How about this? We get naked, I make you forget all about being stressed, and we order room service.” His hands pushed at the hem of Cas’ tee-shirt without waiting for a response, gliding softly up the warm, smooth flesh hidden beneath the fabric. Cas nearly melted under his touch, the tension and apprehension fading from his body almost visibly as Dean explored with his fingers and mouth.

“That sounds like my kind of vacation.” Cas answered breathily. He let Dean pull the shirt off over his head and was rewarded with a warm mouth on his nipple almost instantly, a low groan escaping his lips as Dean nipped and licked until it was hard and wet. Hands already fumbled with buttons as each man fought to be the first to undress his lover, so that their arms were a tangle and neither really gained any purchase. They reached an unspoken agreement somehow, Dean’s hands retreating to his own pants, Cas’ mirroring him, and soon they were crawling on to the bed, hands running over each other’s naked bodies like it was the first time they’d ever touched. Cas was just as responsive as the first time Dean touched him, rolling his hips up in urgent approval as Dean palmed at his dick. His touch was gentle and teasing at first, just fingertips and light, grazing touches. Cas writhed on the mattress, chasing friction with his hips, hands fisting in the sheets with arousal and frustration. Dean laughed softly at his lover’s enthusiasm, teasing him for a few minutes more before finally encircling his cock with firm fingers and stroking up and down his length. Cas groaned out in pleasure, the muscles in his legs straining as he fought to keep his hips from thrusting up into Dean’s hand.

“Relax, Cas. I got you,” Dean murmured. His thumb slid through the pearl of precome collecting at the head, slicking its way back down the shaft as Dean sped up, gripping and twisting as he went. This was anything but teasing, now. “Did we put the lube in your bag or mine?” he asked, not slowing for a second.

“Yours I think,” Cas replied after a moment, his voice airy and his eyelids fluttering. He let out a disappointed noise when Dean stopped touching him.

“Don’t move,” Dean commanded as he walked across the carpet to where he’d discarded his bag, crouching down to dig through pockets until he found the little bottle he sought. He returned with alacrity, settling down between Cas’ legs with the bottle in hand. He nudged Cas’ thighs wider and slid a finger between his cheeks to rub gently against the pucker of his hole, ignoring the buck of Cas’ hips as he teased against it just so. He pulled his finger away and when it returned a moment later, the cold of the lube was a shock to Cas’ system, but he’d never say it was unwelcome. Cas tensed as he slipped the first finger in, relaxing gradually as Dean pressed and twisted, his free hand running along Cas’ thigh soothingly. Dean mumbled sweet praises as he went, watching with delight as Cas squirmed beneath him, spread out on the mattress. His eyes fluttered open and closed, his mouth working pointlessly to make words he couldn’t form, and choked out moans tumbled from his lips at irregular intervals. Dean loved to watch the muscles in his core tighten as he pressed a second finger in, the way the ropey muscles in his arms corded and tensed, the way noises punched out of his gut as he drank in the pleasure. Cas was beautiful, at all times, but especially like this. Dean told him so.

“Love watching you like this, Cas. You’re beautiful,” and he worked a third finger in. Dean was sure his face lit up when Cas moaned out his name, low and throaty as his hips rolled in response, rocking back and forth to thrust onto Dean’s fingers. “So gorgeous.” Cas didn’t reply, not with words, but he moaned and writhed, and his eyes came open long enough to stare into Dean’s lovingly for a moment before Dean pressed against his sweet spot and he threw his head back, eyes closing in ecstasy.

“Fuck!” Cas cried out, his whole body tensing. “Do that again!”

“What, this?” Dean taunted, pressing his fingers roughly against the patch of nerves. Cas was at a loss for words to reply. When he finally managed to force his mouth to speak, his voice was raw and rough with arousal.

“Yes, you absolute dick. _That._ I think you need to fuck me now,” he growled. Dean was helpless but to comply. He’d never get over how Cas’ voice could just get under his skin. It was magic. He pulled his fingers out and slicked his cock up with more lube before fitting himself to Cas’s hole, easing himself in as slow as he could bare to go. Cas let out one long, breathy moan as he slid in, panting and clutching at Dean’s arms as he bottomed out. Dean took a moment to position himself, leaning forward so he could claim Cas’ mouth in a kiss that said love and lust and desire all at once, and when Cas’ fingers tangled themselves in the short hair at the nape of his neck, he began to move.

The first thrusts were slow, gentle rolls of his hips, short and shallow. Cas moved with him, their hips grinding in time. Dean didn’t want to take his mouth away from Cas’, not for one second, so he kissed him deeply and passionately as the pace of his hips quickened, not into the hard brutal thrusts that he’d found last night, but into something entirely different. Cas’ legs wrapped around his hips, shifting the angle and drawing them closer together, drawing Dean deeper into himself. Dean swallowed the moan that fell from Cas’ lips as his cock brushed against Cas’ prostate again, and he was sure he made his own sound in reply.

Dean shifted his weight on to one arm and moved to trace the line of Cas’ jaw with the thumb on his free hand. He clutched at Cas’ face, cradling him tenderly as their hips moved in unison. Their bodies were as close as possible, a million points of contact between mouths and hands and hips and legs and chests. Dean wanted to feel all of Cas, touch all of him. Never wanted to let go.

If he was pressed to decide, Dean would have a hard time identifying he thing he liked best about sex with Cas. It might be the way it felt to have Cas tighten up around him as he sank in on that first slow stroke. It might be the way Cas’ mouth sucked marks on his shoulders and collarbone as they moved together. It might be the way Cas’ hands scrabbled for purchase, clutching at Dean like he was a man drowning and Dean was the only thing keeping him afloat. It might be the hungry way he wrapped his legs around Dean’s hips and thrust against him, desperate for all the friction he could muster. But here, now, in this minute, Dean was resolute. The beautiful needy cries that fell from Cas’ lips as their sweat-slick bodies rolled and ground together, tipping over the crest at the same time and coming as one, that was his absolute favourite. Cas’s entire body tensed as he came, eyes wide and lips parted, breaking the kiss only to fill the air with the sounds that Dean loved so much. Dean couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention even as his own orgasm ebbed and flowed because Cas was simply a thing of beauty, free and open and perfect. All the pleasure that sparked through his nerves was painted clear on his face. Uninhibited. Dean felt a groan tumble from his own lips and collapsed atop Cas, peppering his skin with chaste, tender kisses as he rolled his hips one last time, drawing a shudder and a sigh from the gorgeous man beneath him.

“That was amazing,” Cas crooned. His hands traced lazy patterns up Dean’s spine as they lay together, still atop the covers, oblivious to anything in the room except for each other.

“You’re amazing,” Dean answered sleepily, shifting slightly to lie on his hip beside Cas. “Absolutely amazing.” Cas just smiled and nuzzled closer, too wrapped up in the afterglow to fight the compliment like he normally would.

“I believe you said something about room service?” He said after a moment, and Dean reluctantly tore himself away to retrieve the menu from the desk on the opposite wall. “I suppose we’ll have to get dressed enough to go to the door, at least,” Cas admitted grudgingly. The idea of staying in bed naked of the rest of the day was a tempting one. Dean raised a single finger in a forestalling gesture. He retreated to the bathroom, returning a moment later with two plush bathrobes and a damp cloth, as well as the room service menu. Once they’d made a valiant effort at cleanliness, Dean flopped back on to the bed beside Cas, pulling the covers out from under his legs and opening the menu in front of them.

“So,” Cas began. “We’re in Vegas. You going to tell me what the plan is yet?” Dean shook his head.

“Nope. But you’ll find out tomorrow, I promise. You want something extravagant for dinner? They’ll bring us steak and lobster if you want?”

“You know, maybe it’s because I’m spending so much time around you and your food choices are rubbing off on me, but I could kill for a cheeseburger right about now,” Cas replied. Dean beamed.

“A man after my own heart,” he said with a smile, leaning in to kiss Cas softly.

“That’s the idea,” Cas answered softly. “Do you think they have pie?”


	18. Epilogue: Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my Chuck I can't believe this is the end of this. Thanks so much to everyone who stuck with this. I'm super happy with the level of fluff this final chapter contains and I hope you love it as much as I do. 
> 
> I'm working on a few other projects right now that I hope to have posted in the next few weeks and I look forward to seeing what people think of those as well, but you can also harass the crap out of me on tumblr at shennanigoats dot tumblr dot com if you feel so inclined!!! <3

 

Dean didn’t set an alarm for the next morning, so it was nearly ten by the time they woke up. Sun streamed through the windows and a quick glance at the number of people sprawled on deck chairs and towels on the pool deck below told them it was already threatening to be a scorcher. By the time they were showered and dressed, heading downstairs for breakfast, Cas was already starting to get anxious.

“Cas, I promise, it’s a good surprise,” Dean pleaded as the elevator doors slid open and let them loose in the lobby.

“I do trust you.” Cas kept his eyes on his feet as he spoke. “I just…”

“Don’t like surprises.” Dean finished the sentence for him. Cas was silent, his shoulders hunched. Dean slipped his hand into Cas’ as they walked, interlacing their fingers and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “I know. But you just have to bear with me a little longer. Just until after breakfast, ok? And if we get there and you hate it, then the surprise is cancelled and we go do something else. No pressure.”

“OK,” Cas replied, but his voice was tight. “But coffee first. I don’t do surprises on an empty stomach.” Dean nodded in agreement. He didn’t like to do much of anything before coffee.

The nice thing about Vegas, Dean thought, was that there were buffets everywhere. The food was ridiculously cheap. It was that false sense of security thing again, where they lure you in with all the trappings in hopes that you’ll lose what you saved at the poker tables and slot machines.

Breakfast did a very good job of tricking Cas in to forgetting about his stress. They sat down bearing plates piled high with bacon and eggs and whatever other breakfast foods struck their fancy. The buffet was an insane assortment of anything you could consider eating in the morning hours, and some things Dean couldn’t imagine ever eating for breakfast, but hey, to each their own. He’d chosen his favourites, bacon and scrambled eggs and hash browns in abundance, while Cas had taken a somewhat more modest portion and rounded it out with fresh fruit. And coffee. So much coffee.

“I still don’t understand how you can drink your coffee with so much…stuff in it,” teased Dean, sitting back to sip casually at his own cup of plain black goodness.

“And I can’t comprehend how you enjoy it straight like that. It’s never appealed to me.”

“Fair,” he admitted. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree, on the subject of coffee.” Cas frowned.

“We disagree on plenty else, you know.” Cas paused for a moment to pop a bright red strawberry into his mouth, smiling a little as he chewed and thought. “Like surprises.”

“I think we’re allowed to disagree on some things, Cas. How fucking boring would it be to date someone who thought exactly the same as you did on every single little thing? I’d go out of my mind within a week. Besides, we agree on the stuff that matters.” Dean waved a strip of bacon around like a baton as he spoke, punctuating he statement by jabbing the air with the crispy bit of meat.

“Such as?” asked Cas.

“Like the fact that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me?” Dean’s tone was almost questioning, like he was uncertain that Cas would agree all of a sudden.

“Oh god, Dean, this isn’t a Vegas wedding thing is it? Because seriously, I love you, but I’m not going anywhere near an Elvis impersonator—“ Dean cut him off.

“Cas, no! That’s totally not what I was saying. Not that I…I mean if you…I could….like someday…but not…Fuck.” Dean stammered his words, trying desperately to get a handle on the situation. He’d only meant it as flattery, and now he had a big pile of awkward on his hands. Just perfect.

“Oh thank god,” Cas replied, the relief in his voice clear. “I mean, you’re wonderful, but I’ve never actually wanted to get married and I certainly wouldn’t change my mind for a spur of the moment thing in Vegas. Don’t scare me like that!”

“Promise. If I ever decide I want to marry you, I won’t spring it on you at a breakfast buffet in a city with 24 hour wedding chapels.” Dean drank the remainder of his cup of coffee in a hurried gulp, trying to steady his twisting gut.   
“Well that’s a fucking relief. What were we even talking about?” Cas queried. He seemed much calmer than Dean felt about the whole debacle, which was entirely out of character being that Cas was the one losing his shit about an innocuous surprise. Maybe he was so chill because he knew for a fact it wasn’t an over the top proposal looming over him?

“We were talking,” continued Dean, glancing around for the attendant with the coffee pot. “About how you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and how we totally, completely agree on that fact.”

“Yeah,” Cas droned, rolling his eyes. “I’m such a catch.”

“Are you serious? I still have to fight this with you? Do you have any idea how amazing you are? How much better my life is with you in it?” Cas flushed, eyes downcast, shrinking under the praise. He was silent for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was soft.

“Fine, I will grant you that I’m the best thing ever to happen to you, if you concede that you’re the best thing ever to happen to me.”

“Motion carried,” Dean acquiesced with a smug grin on his face. “I can accept these terms.”

 

Less than an hour later, Dean dragged Cas bodily across the floor of a casino several blocks down the strip from where their hotel stood. Cas resisted somewhat, his earlier anxiety returned somewhat, and tried to tug his hand out of Dean’s grasp.

“I thought you said we weren’t gambling,” he whined, and Dean drew up short.

“We’re not,” came Dean’s reply. “Just trust me. It’s through here,” he gestured to a set of double doors just a few feet to their right. Cas slumped his shoulders and followed grudgingly, squinting as Dean opened the doors and they stepped out into the bright late-morning sunlight. Cas’ eyes fell on a platform with turnstiles, and a little covered area that looked like nothing so much as a train station.

“I don’t understand,” he began, and Dean reached down to take his hand again.

“Look up, Cas.” Dean pointed with his free hand to the twisting, twirling mass of metal that extended into the sky above, looping and weaving far up into the air. Distantly, they could hear the sound of the cart roaring over the track as the current batch of riders hurtled through the sky, screaming with delight as the coaster thrilled their senses.

“Charlie told me you’d never ridden one,” Dean stated plainly, turning to smile at Cas. “And I just couldn’t let that stand.” Cas stated, dumbfounded. He didn’t speak, and his face didn’t give Dean any indication of his opinion. “Are you…is this a good surprise?” Cas laughed suddenly, a joyous sound that heaved his chest and lit up his face.

“It’s an amazing surprise, Dean. I’ve always wanted to ride a roller-coaster. I had no idea they had one in Las Vegas though.” He beamed at Dean as he spoke, his voice full of happy emotions, of excitement and wonder.

“There’s more than one. This is the tamest of them, as far as the internet weirdoes who rate roller coasters are concerned. I figured we’d start here, and if you like it, we can ride the rest of them. What do you think?” Dean laughed as Cas threw his arms around Dean’s neck in reply, dropping little kisses on his lips and his face.

“You plan good vacations,” Cas announced. “Let’s go ride this thing.”

There wasn’t much of a line for the coaster, so Cas only had a few minutes to let the anticipation build as they watched other riders climb into the cars and depart down the track, returning shortly later with windswept hair and wide eyed glee on their faces. When it was their turn, Dean paid the attendant and they climbed into their seats. The safety bar latched in place and Cas was pleasantly aware of how close the confines of the cart placed him to the warmth of Dean’s body. Their hips pressed together, shoulders jostling as they settled into place, and just as the car began to move slowly forward, hauled by some unseen chain beneath, Dean interlaced his fingers with Cas’ and gave him a little squeeze.

“It is customary to scream, I’ve noticed,” Cas said softly, scarcely audible over the click-clack of the wheels. They’d begun the slow climb up the first hill, building up enough height that kinetic force could carry them through the twists and loops that would soon follow.

“Yes,” Dean replied with a laugh. “But I don’t think it’s like, a rule or anything. I think people scream because it’s thrilling. Just do what feels natural.” And then they were cresting the hill. The cart paused momentarily at the top, like it was taunting them, giving them a chance to ponder and anticipate what they were about to undertake. Cas had a brief, split second worry that this was a terrible idea, that the cart was going to fly off the rails or they were going to get stuck up here or an errant seagull was going to fly into their path and he’d be struck in the face (never mind how far they were from the ocean, he’d read a story, it definitely happened to someone once, it could totally happen again.) In the face of something fun and new and exciting, of course Mister Worst Case Scenario would rear his head again. Just as the panic started to set in, Dean gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and Cas forced himself to settle, to let go of the strain, and the cart began to move.

There was no gradual buildup this time. The second the brake released, the cart careened down the metal hill at breakneck speed, gaining momentum as it went. Cas felt a wordless howl escape his lips, but he couldn’t recall telling his lungs to scream. His blood pulsed in his temples and his heart leapt in his chest and somehow, his arms were above his head, flailing in freedom as he plummeted toward certain death. But just as he thought the descent would stop with him splattered on the ground, the cart changed course, following the track into a banked turn, looping and spinning and barrelling forward as if it hadn’t just threatened to kill them all. Cas had a bare second to catch his breath before they ascended another hill, smaller than the first, moving much faster than they had climbed the initial hill. There was no pause at the top of this hill, either. The instant they crested, gravity pulled them downward just as it pulled a shrill scream from Cas’ lips. He was vaguely aware of Dean’s hand clutching his own as they trailed above their heads, but he couldn’t pick out any individual shriek in the din to tell if Dean was screaming along with him. He’d have to ask later.

The second hill gave way immediately to a twisting corkscrew. Cas had just enough time to recognize the shape of the upcoming track as they reached the low point of the track, just enough time to acknowledge the fact that this would put them upside-down for just the briefest of moments, but not enough time to process that fact and do any sort of panicking. He gripped Dean’s hand just a little tighter and filled his lungs with life-giving air, and as the car propelled them into the air and hung them from the sky, he let out a shout that quickly became a laugh. It came out boisterous and full of life, and it was only then that Cas really acknowledged how much fun he was having. He couldn’t be sure, not with the wind whipping in his face and the howling, but he was pretty sure there was a grin on his face the size of Texas.

The corkscrew survived, Cas and Dean quickly found themselves climbing what would prove to be the last hill of the track. It wasn’t as large as the first, but slightly larger than the second. Cas forgot to be apprehensive as they made their ascent and gave himself over completely to the rapturous joy of motion. He never would have expected it, but he enjoyed being hurtled through the air on this man-made monstrosity. He threw his head back and laughed loud and clear, delighting in the freedom he felt as the cart dropped toward the ground one last time. He was still laughing by the time they pulled up to the little station, the sound ringing in his ears as he and Dean exited the cart and stepped on to the platform.

“So you liked it then,” Dean stated obtusely. Cas turned to face him as they walked back into the casino, and saw the delight he knew was clear on his face mirrored on Dean’s.

“How many more of these did you say there were in Las Vegas?” Cas replied, sliding his arm around Dean’s waist and pressing close against him as they walked.

 

Cas and Dean rode every single coaster in Vegas over the next two days. They rode corkscrews and loops. They rode coasters that hung you from the track instead of the traditional method of dragging the cart over top of it. They rode metal ones, and one old-school wooden coaster that looked rickety enough that Cas almost balked, but it turned out to be one of their favourites. They rode every single roller coaster in the city, and then went back and rode their favourites again. By the end of their second day in Vegas, Dean was sure they’d spent more time on coasters than on solid ground. He couldn’t bring himself to complain, though, because the only time he’d ever seen Castiel that free, that uninhibited before had been during sex, and roller coasters were decidedly more appropriate for public consumption. It made him immeasurably happy to know that Cas could have that kind of joy and that Dean wasn’t the only thing that could give it to him. He felt…almost proud.

After the final coaster run of their afternoon, Dean insisted they go to an actual restaurant for dinner. They’d subsisted the last two days on room service and fast food, whatever could be grabbed and eaten in transit between one coaster and the next. Not that Dean was complaining, because the room service was usually eaten nude, and was either preceded or closely followed by sex, slow and languorous or hard and passionate, depending on how the mood took them. But Dean wanted to sit down at a table and order off a menu and have someone bring food to them. Possibly with some kind of alcohol that didn’t come out of little airline bottles. So they dressed up relatively nicely, in slacks and dress shirts and made their way into the hotel’s restaurant, not the one that hosted the breakfast buffet, but the nicer one that actually qualified as a restaurant. Dean almost ordered a bottle of wine, then decided against it at the last minute, as neither of them were particularly enthusiastic about wine. He ordered a whiskey instead, and Cas asked for a rum and coke.

“So what do you want to do with our last day in Vegas?” Dean asked. The waiter had just walked away with their orders. He sipped his whiskey slowly, letting the burn of it crawl down his throat and warm his insides. Not that he needed warming, because they were in the middle of the desert in July, but it still lit a pleasant fire in his belly. “Want to ride coasters again? Want to see some sights? We could lounge by the pool, or catch a show, or if you’re feeling super adventurous we could even play a few hands of blackjack. Whatever you want to do.” Cas fixed him with a flat look.

“Do you have any idea how insurmountably the odds are stacked in favour of the house at a blackjack table? I’ve seen the numbers. It’s statistically unlikely to be a profitable endeavour.” Cas swirled his drink thoughtfully.

“You know you’re on vacation, right? You don’t have to be an accountant right now.”

“I don’t think this way because I’m an accountant. I’m an accountant because I think this way. In any case, no, don’t want to play blackjack. I think I would like to go ride one coaster again, the big one, and then I would like to spend the rest of the day being as lazy as possible.”

“Naked lazy?” Dean suggested, a gleam in his eye that could only be described as hungry.

“Maybe,” Cas teased, but they both knew he meant yes.

 

Dean would argue, if you asked him about it, that he would always choose pie over any other available dessert option, any day off the week, no matter what the occasion. Period. End of story. It was pie or nothing. The only questions ever came if there were multiple kinds of pie being offered and then he'd have to think long and hard about what kind of pie based mood he was in. And even then, if pecan pie was on the list of available pies, Dean would stop listening to the rest of the options and that would be that. So it should stand to reason as far as he’s concerned that any situation, person, place or thing that can cause him to willingly consume not-pie when pie is an option is a very important person, place, thing or occasion indeed. He can count on the fingers of one hand the scenarios in his life that have met the immensely discerning criteria required for consensual pie evasion and have change left over to count something else on. Once, when he was three, he let his mom have the last slice of pie and ate pudding instead, which he regretted for days afterwards. Adult Dean would later recall that it was an entirely meaningful gesture and especially in the absence of any memories of his mother past the age of four he would cherish it for the rest of his days. Shortly before his demise, John had come home particularly drunk and broken the majority of their dishes. The next day he’d braved his hangover to purchase a pie at the grocery store, by way of half-hearted apology. He’d never actually used the words “I’m sorry,” but it was obvious that was his intent. Dean had steadfastly refused to eat the pie because he felt like it would constitute tacit acceptance of his father’s behaviour, and he wouldn’t have accepted a verbal apology so he sure as hell wasn’t going to accept a culinary one. And that night in Vegas, the dessert menu boasted an elaborate chocolate fondue, featuring fresh strawberries and pineapple, bite sized pieces of chocolate and vanilla cakes, and little tiny brownies with walnuts nestled inside. It was intended as a shared dessert, and even Dean couldn’t deny the implications of refusing when Cas suggested it was something he might enjoy as a conclusion to their meal, so he’d spared only a half glance for the line on the menu that proclaimed ‘Ask your server about our featured pie,’ and told Cas they should order the fondue. The gravity of the gesture was not lost on Castiel.

“Are you certain, Dean? They have pie.” His face bore a look of deep concern, like he was worried that Dean not having pie when pie was available constituted some sort of illness. Normally he’d be correct.

“I know they have pie, Cas. You can get pie everywhere. You cannot get,” he glanced down, reading the wording directly off the menu for emphasis, “’an indulgent assortment of fresh fruit and pastry items, perfect for dipping in our signature rich dark chocolate and white chocolate fondues. Made from the finest quality chocolate, infused with Madagascar vanilla and tempered with fresh cream,’ everywhere. So that’s what we’re having.” He set the menu down on the table, closed it firmly, and crossed his arms with a look on his face that he hoped carried a tone of determination and not the wavering commitment to his decision that his mind was playing at. If Cas suggested one more time that he have pie instead, his resolve might crumble and the thoughtfulness of his gesture would be completely destroyed.

“Well if you’re sure,” Cas began.

“I am,” Dean interrupted.

“Ok then.”

The fondue was delivered on a rolling cart by a waiter who simpered and preened like his life depended on it. He cleared all the unnecessary accoutrements from the table, fawning meticulously over the removal of salt and pepper shakers, dinner dishes, empty glasses, and the floral arrangement that had sat off to the side of their place settings for the entirety of the meal, before finally arranging the gleaming metal fondue pots with their little sterno flames in the centre of the table and the various dishes to either side. He proffered two-tonged forks for each of them and poured coffee, fresh and steaming, before smiling a thin-lipped smile and striding back to whatever the fuck he did when he wasn’t being ten gallons of fastidious in a five gallon bucket.

When the waiter finally left, Cas and Dean surveyed the spread laid out before them with disbelief. It was massive. Dean wasn’t sure they could finish them all if there were four of them. Still, Cas’ face had excitement painted all over, so they tucked in with gusto and enthusiasm.

Dean decided that the brownie pieces dipped in the white chocolate were his favourite, but there wasn’t really anything on the spread that he didn’t enjoy. It was no pie, that’s for sure, but it was delicious all the same. Cas spread his attention around evenly, so it wasn’t clear what he liked best, but he hummed and smiled and made happy noises and that was plenty.

“You’ve got a little something.” Dean reached out to swipe a finger across Cas’ chin, collecting the spot of white chocolate that had situated itself just below his lip. Cas turned his head just slightly and caught Dean’s finger in his mouth. His tongue flicked across the pad of Dean’s finger and Dean was sure he was just after the chocolate but the sight of Cas mouthing contentedly at his finger carried a decidedly suggestive note that refused to be ignored. He smiled and pulled his hand away slowly, then swiped a piece of cake through the chocolate with his fingers and popped it into his mouth, sucking the errant crumbs off his thumb before casually turning his attention to his coffee.

“Dean…” Cas narrowed his eyes across the table.

“What?! I’m not doing anything!”   He flashed a smug grin at Cas, fully aware that he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“No, of course you’re not.   There was nothing intentionally suggestive in that gesture at all.” Cas rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you started it. I’m just rising to the occasion.”  
“I started it? How do you figure?!” Cas set his fork down and gazed at Dean intently.

“I was just getting chocolate off your face! You were the one who started sucking on my finger.” Castiel pondered for a moment before replying.

“You don’t usually complain when I use my mouth in that particular manner.” His voice was light, conversational, but Dean was floored. He tore his eyes away from Cas only long enough to get the attention of their simpering waiter and requested the bill.   “What’s wrong, Dean? Is dessert not agreeing with you?” Cas, the little shit, sat across the table and smirked.

“You may have started this,” Dean dropped his voice to speak low and warm, “But as soon as we get back up to the room, I’m going to finish it.”

Dean managed to keep his hands to himself in the elevator ride upstairs, which was just as well because he was fairly certain the family of four sharing the space with them would not have appreciated their children being present for the things he _wanted_ to be doing in that elevator. He managed to restrain himself just long enough to let the door click shut behind them in the safety of the hotel room, and then he was pressing Cas against the door, claiming his mouth in a hungry kiss and already working furiously at the buttons on Cas’ shirt. He managed to work them all open with only a little bit of difficulty. Reason told him that if he just slowed down a little, it might be easier, but honestly his brain was far past being able to accept that totally workable solution. Slow was not an option.

“Cas,” groaned Dean, pulling him away from the door by one belt loop and leading him towards the bed. He stripped his own shirt off as they went. When they reached the bed, Dean quickly freed Cas of his slacks, then dropped his own before climbing onto the bed beside his lover, letting his lips and tongue trail up Cas’ chest as he moved up towards the mountain of pillows. Dean palmed at Cas’ dick through his shorts as their mouths met in a feverish kiss, driving the breath from Dean’s lungs with its intensity. Cas’ hands bracketed Dean’s face, holding him close so he could kiss him over and over and over. Soon, Dean began to grind his hips against Cas’ thigh, a desperate, dirty roll that left no doubt as to how hard he was, trapped in his boxers.

“I want you on top.” Dean’s words were more a moan than a sentence, punctuated by his hand grasping at the waistband of Cas’ underwear to tug it downwards and free the length of his cock from the confining fabric. Cas hissed and arched as Dean’s palm pressed against his erection, his hips rolling upward to meet the firm pressure.

“That sounds a whole lot more like me finishing it than you finishing it,” Cas said, as accusingly as he could as he bucked his hips into the friction of Dean’s hand.

“That sounds a whole lot like complaining. Should I take that as a no?”

“You really, really should not. You should, however, get naked. That would help.” Cas answered with more than a little snark in his voice as he rolled away from Dean’s attentions to grab the bottle of lube off the nightstand. They really should have tucked it away before leaving for the day. The housekeeping staff probably would have appreciated that. When he rolled back over, Dean had managed to discard his underwear and lay on his side, propped up on one elbow to stare at Cas through heavy lids. Cas rolled him over with a firm hand on his hip, and Dean tucked his legs under and pressed onto hands and knees, wiggling his hips a little as Cas teased at his hole with a single lubed finger. He cried out when Cas pushed in to the first knuckle, pressing only as much as he thought Dean could take, but giving a little more on each go. He worked in a second finger soon after, and Dean dropped his head to groan into the pillow. Dean opened up to his touch gradually and by the time Cas had a third finger worked in, Dean was moaning constantly, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Cas didn’t waste any further time slicking himself up and lining up to drive into the tight heat of Dean’s ass, bottoming out in an agonizingly slow thrust. His hands clutched at Dean’s hips possessively, holding on for dear life as his hips met Dean’s thighs. Cas leaned over to mouth at Dean’s shoulder as his hips began to roll, one hand braced on the mattress and the other caressing Dean’s arm, his chest, his back.

“You feel so good…” Cas breathed, scarcely able to form words. Already he felt the beginnings of his orgasm forming at the edge of perception, the explosive heat taking shape in his belly. His hips accelerated with each passing moment, so that the sound of skin on skin filled the air and mingled with the rasp of breath and the little punched out moans that fell from Dean’s hips.

Dean, for his own part, was needy and wanted more. He pushed back against Cas’ thrusts, taking him deeper and deeper, crying out when Cas pushed into his sweet spot. Cas responded in kind. He ceased the tantalizing roll of his hips and let it become a hard drive, slamming his hips into Deans mercilessly and dragging his hand down beneath his partner to wrap around Dean’s thick cock.

“Fuck, Cas! Yes! Just like that!” Dean whimpered. Cas drove into him with relentless focus, biting into the meat of his shoulder as he shifted his hips to meet Dean’s sweet spot with every few thrusts. Dean’s whimpering became a dizzying string of profanity, begging Cas _more_ and _fuck yes_ and _harder_ , and Cas was helpless to deny him. He slammed home with renewed vigour, driven by the absolutely filthy noises falling from Dean’s lips, and he was just starting to feel his climax loom when Dean tensed beneath him, coming hard in Cas’ hand as he moaned and babbled.

“Right there Cas, yes, oh god yes, so good, fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you!” the words fell from his mouth like a divine litany as he came, and it dragged Cas right over the edge with him. He came hard, riding Dean through his orgasm as his hips broke rhythm, and his mouth fell open in a silent ‘O’, because he didn’t want anything to stop him from hearing the gorgeous words Dean offered up in his own moment of ecstasy. They collapsed to the mattress in a breathless, sticky heap, neither party wanting to move for long minutes afterwards. When they finally did move, it was only long enough to clean up and climb right back in to bed. Cas fell asleep almost instantly curled up to Dean’s side, and his sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

 

Dean refused to tell Cas anything about the final leg of their journey, except that they had to check out of the hotel in Vegas at 1 am and get directly on the road. He denied any further details and wouldn’t speak any further on the subject. They’d spent their final day in Vegas naked and lazy in the hotel room like Cas had decreed, and Cas was grateful for this because they curled up to sleep almost immediately after the dinner they ordered from room service and slept right until Dean’s alarm went off at midnight. He was still bleary when the valet pulled the Impala to a stop outside the front doors. Their bags were stowed securely in the trunk, and after a careful once-over Dean decided nothing untoward had happened to his baby, so he tipped the man and settled himself in to the driver’s seat. Cas fell asleep before they made the city limits.

 

When he woke again, it was still dark The car wasn’t moving and Dean had turned the radio off.

“Oh good, you’re awake. We’re here.” Dean grinned in the dark, reaching out to clasp Cas’s hand in a warm and familiar gesture.

“Where’s here?” Cas asked.

“You’ll see,” was the only reply Dean would give. He got out of the car and gestured for Cas to do the same. There was a blanket lain over the hood of the Impala. Cas couldn’t tell where they were except that it was a parking lot. The night air carried a chill even in the summer and he was glad for the shared warmth as he climbed on to the hood beside Dean, who promptly covered them both with another blanket. They were quiet for a time, staring into the night sky at the fading stars. Cas figured it must be nearing morning, because the black was starting to fade to deep blue in places, and a faint light could be seen from the horizon.

“I don’t want you to miss out on things,” Dean said suddenly, interrupting the calm. “I want you to have everything, all the good things. I want you to have vacations and roller coasters and chocolate fondue.”

“I want that too,” Cas replied.

“Look,” Dean said suddenly, pointing out into the distance. There, past the few other cars they could see, past a sea of RV’s and campers, the sun had just peeked up the tiniest bit above the horizon, spilling orange-pink light into the sky. Cas watched in awe for more minutes than he could put number to as the most perfect sunrise he could ever recall watching painted itself across the sky. It was like all of creation was coming to life before his eyes, the world lighting up for the very first time and he was there to witness it.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathed an eternity later, when there was enough light in the sky to really call it morning, and it was only then that he tore his eyes from the sky to look at the rest of the world it had revealed. Just past the parking lot, past the rows of motor homes and recreational vehicles, a gaping chasm split the world, a canyon so large Castiel could understand immediately why they’d named it Grand.

“You told Charlie once that you wanted to watch the sun rise over the Grand Canyon, but you thought you’d never get to go,” Dean offered, his voice soft and patient. “I wanted you to learn that some surprises are good.” When Cas turned to look at Dean, there were unshed tears in his perfect blue eyes, sparkling, joyous tears. He looked like someone had just given him the world.

“This is the most amazing, most perfect thing anyone has ever done for me, Dean. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.” His voice was full of emotion, reverence and gratitude and joy and marvel and wonder.

“Just let me keep being one of your good things,” Dean replied, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips, gentle and chaste.

“Always,” Cas replied, and he meant it.

 

Hours later, when the sun had fully risen and they’d driven back out of the park to eat breakfast and drink coffee and laugh, Dean and Cas returned to the Canyon to do the tourist thing. They stood, pressed together at the hip and gazed out over the majesty of the scene, each drinking in the detail of the day, imprinting it on their memories to keep for all time.

“You two on your honeymoon?” a young woman drawled in a thick Texas accent. She held hands with a tall man Cas assumed was her husband, judging by the rings on their left hands and the dreamy looks in their eyes.

“No,” Cas replied, laughing slightly. “Just on vacation.”  
“Oh, well you got that look to ya. You know, the ‘we’re madly in love and we don’t care who knows it,’ look.” Cas knew the one she was talking about. The dreamy one. The one she wore. He hadn’t realized it would be so obvious to look at them but he supposed her assessment was correct. They _were_ madly in love, and Cas really _didn’t_ care who knew it. “Name’s Sandra, and this is my husband Derek,” she said, gesturing to the man beside her.

“I’m Castiel,” he replied politely, extending a hand to shake theirs. “And this is Dean.” Dean shook their hands as well, grinning that broad grin that made him so charming.

“So Dean, Castiel, how’d you two meet?” Sandra drawled as Derek pulled a camera out of his pocket and snapped a few pictures of the canyon.

“A mutual friend introduced us. Her name is Pamela,” Castiel replied instinctively. Dean laughed loudly, drawing Cas in and kissing him chastely on the lips.

“That’s the abridged version,” he teased. “Lemme tell you how it really happened.”


End file.
